


The Valuation of Clint Barton

by Desade, Eviscera



Series: Ouchy-Verse [16]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desade/pseuds/Desade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: The time has come for Clint to prove himself worthy.





	The Valuation of Clint Barton

**Author's Note:**

> Well, we've finally finished the next installment of the Ouchy-verse series. Thank you all so very much for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait!

The hours passed slowly, as sleep eluded Loki.  

He lay still, listening to the deep, even breathing of his Hawk, and trying to calm his racing thoughts.  Their meeting with Idunn was fast approaching, and the dark god suddenly found himself wishing he could slow the steady march of time.  

If only there were some way to draw out the night, to postpone the trials that lay ahead. 

But alas, such magic was beyond him.

With a heavy sigh, Loki drew Clint closer to him, arms wrapped protectively around the archer as the other man stirred and muttered sleepily before setting back into slumber.

“We will weather this storm, as we have all that came before,” Loki murmured quietly, more for his own peace of mind than that of his sleeping Hawk.  “And come what may, we will face it  _ together _ .”

He repeated this several times over, silently, as his eyes were drawn to the sky framed between stone arches, and the near imperceptible lightening of the heavens.

Clint was floating, warm and weightless in the dark.  It wasn’t a horrible feeling, and the darkness was comforting, like a black hug.  He heard a voice somewhere in all the darkness, the words indecipherable, but the meaning was quite clear.  He knew that voice, it was well-loved and he trusted it more than any other.

It was too much effort to answer the voice, and it was just as well that it didn’t seem to need him to reply.  Words were just a distraction to him right now; he wanted to remain in the tranquil darkness a little while longer.

A little while seemed to be all he was allowed, for soon the darkness began to give over to a subtle lightening, just a bit of grey at the edges of his vision at first, but slowly growing.  With an unhappy murmur, Clint tried to burrow deeper into the warmth, ignoring the way it seemed to chuckle at him, as if his attempt to escape the light was somehow amusing.

Slowly, Clint blinked his way out of the darkness, only to realize that he had somehow managed to end up with a pillow over his head and his face pressed quite intimately into Loki’s armpit.

The chuckling suddenly made a bit more sense.

“Good morning, my Hawk,” came the low rumbling of Loki’s voice, the same voice he had been chasing in his sleep.

“‘Mornin’,” he returned, his own voice a ragged croak.  He groaned and lifted his head from beneath the pillow, only to screw his face up in a grimace at the first light of dawn leaking in through the window.  He rolled over with every intention of dozing off again, but Loki’s next words were like a bucket of ice water down his back.

“Idunn is expecting us,” he said quietly.

Clint huffed out a groan, very much like a surly teenager called from bed on a school day.  He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the sight of the sun beginning to rise over the city outside.

“Don’t suppose I could barter for five more minutes?” he asked, only half-jokingly.  He knew this appointment was important, and yet a part of him deep down wanted nothing more than to burrow back down into the covers and never crawl out again.

“Unfortunately not,” Loki replied, already sitting up against the headboard.  “It would be even beyond my usual irreverence to slight the Lady Idunn in such a serious matter.”

“Didn’t think so,” Clint muttered.  He sat up himself, an expansive yawn nearly popping his jaw, and slumped against Loki’s side as he blinked himself awake.

“How are you feeling?” Loki asked, running his fingers through bed-ruffled hair.  

Clint’s eyes fluttered for a brief moment at the contact.  “Surprisingly good, considering.  Don’t even have a hangover.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Loki said, giving his archer’s head one last, lingering caress before sliding out from beneath the covers.

Clint merely sat and watched him move across the room, collecting their discarded clothes so hastily shed the night before.  He woke up slowly, feeling strangely light, and much more rested than he felt he should be.  He chose to chalk it up to the difference in alcohol than what he was used to, and not question why he didn’t feel like Sleipnir had used his head to play hackey-sack.  

“I do hope you plan on dressing sometime soon,” Loki said, pulling Clint from his drowsy musings.

He looked down at his lap, covered by the bed-furs and nothing else, and shrugged.  “Probably should, huh?”

Loki blinked at the casually flippant tone.  “Are you alright, Clint?” he asked in such a serious tone that Clint actually straightened up under his gaze.

“Fine, just… y’know, I don’t think I really ever thought this day was gonna come.  Little nervous, I guess.”

“That is to be expected,” Loki agreed.  “Having waited so very long to be granted an audience, the tension building with each passing day?  It would be strange to  _ not  _ be nervous.”

Clint gave a slight nod before throwing back the bed-furs and rising to his feet.  He stretched the knots from his back and shoulder, then yawned expansively before stating, “Alright, then.  Let’s get this going.”

Loki watched the archer cross the room to the dresser and begin searching through the drawers.  He rummaged through the clothing within, frowning lightly until he drew out a pair of soft leather leggings.  

“There they are,” Clint announced.  “My lucky pants!”

A soft grin rose on Loki’s face as he asked, “You have ‘lucky’  _ pants _ ?”

“Yep,” Clint replied as he stepped into the leggings and drew them up.  “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I can only speak for myself,” Loki chuckled.  “And I have no such thing.”

“Ok, so maybe you don’t have lucky pants,” Clint conceded, moving to the wardrobe and looking over the tunics hanging within.  “But you’ve got some sort of lucky charm, right?”

“I suppose you fit that description quite nicely,” the dark god murmured.

“People don’t count, Loki,” Clint remarked absently as he sorted through the clothing before him.  “It’s gotta be a  _ thing _ .  A…totem, I guess you’d call it.”  

Pulling two tunics from the wardrobe, Clint turned and asked, “Which one should I wear?”

“The green one, of course,” Loki replied.

“Of course,” Clint echoed, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.  

The archer drew the tunic over his head, and then moved to a small table in the center of the room.  He sat down and drew on his boots before leaning back in the chair and taking a plump pear from the fruit bowl.  He bit into it and chewed slowly, all while giving Loki an appraising look.

“So how ‘bout it, Princess?  What’s your lucky charm?”

“I need nothing of the sort,” Loki stated as he plucked a cluster of grapes from the assortment of fruit on the table.  “I prefer to make my own luck.”

“Sure ya do,” Clint answered earnestly.  “But I gotta ask.  What about that little slip of paper you always keep in your pocket?”

Loki lifted his gaze to meet Clint’s, an easy smile on the other man’s face.

“What?  You didn’t think I’d notice?  I am a sniper, y’know.  Noticing things is sorta my  _ job _ .”

“It’s…silly,” Loki finally answered.  “Just a bit of sentimental nonsense.”

“So tell me, then.  I think I could use a little sentiment right about now.”

Loki uttered a soft sigh before drawing a small piece of paper from his pocket and sliding it across the table to Clint.  The archer picked it up, noting the ragged, well-worn appearance that showed exactly how often Loki had handled this particular item.  The back was blank, and Clint turned it over, a grin growing on his face as he realized what it was.

A fortune.  

That long ago day rose in Clint’s mind, and he remembered how skittish Loki had been.  The blush on the god’s face, and the realization that he might be in for more than he’d bargained for when it came to Loki.

The red letters were faded, but he was able to make out the message clearly enough.

_ “Continue your course, and you shall have your heart’s desire.” _

“Huh,” Clint said, amused.  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you kept it.”

Loki gave a huff and rolled his eyes.  “And I am sure you have kept no such reminders of our early days.”

“Didn’t say that,” Clint said as he handed the slip of paper back.  It went back into Loki’s pocket, where it would probably stay until it eroded into dust.  “I kept a couple things, actually.”

Loki blinked at him curiously.  “Did you, now?”

Clint gave a small hum of agreement as he finished his breakfast, then stood to finish getting dressed.  Loki waited, perhaps for him to expand or elaborate, but Clint let him wonder, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.  He could practically feel Loki’s curiosity bouncing off the back of his head, but until he actually came out and  _ asked _ , Clint was going to keep that particular secret to himself.

A knock at the door interrupted any teasing game they might have started, and they both sobered instantly when Loki opened the door to see an escort of guards waiting on the other side.

“The Lady Idunn commands your presence,” said the stone-faced guard at the door.

Loki turned to look over his shoulder at Clint, who was just shrugging his way into his vest.  His face showed no trace of the amusement of a few moments ago.  In its place was an expression Loki was very familiar with; he’d seen it fall over Clint’s face every time he had to leave for days–sometimes weeks–at a time.  His mission face, unreadable and nearly as impenetrable as granite.

There was no need to ask if he was ready.

“Give us but a moment,” Loki said, stepping away from the door, and waving one hand in a quick pattern.  His formerly sleep-mussed hair fell into place, even as his clothing morphed from a simple robe to something more fitting of an audience with Idunn.

“D’ya think I’ll need my bow?” Clint asked.

“I cannot say,” Loki replied.  “It would do no harm to bring it along, though.”

Clint nodded and slipped his quiver over one shoulder before withdrawing his bow from its’ case.  He firmed his grip around the riser, and lifted his gaze to his god.

“This is it, then,” he ground out.  “Do or die.”

“Poor choice of words, my Hawk,” Loki murmured, a stricken look in his green eyes.

“Sorry,” Clint said quietly.  “But it’s the truth.”

Loki gave a slight nod and turned to the door.  “Come,” he said.  “It would not be wise to keep the lady waiting.”

Clint moved to Loki’s side, and together the exited the room.  The guards fell into formation around them, one leading, one following and two on each side.

“This seems vaguely familiar,” Loki remarked.  “Very similar to the retinue afforded me when I was brought aboard your helicarrier.”

“Yeah?” Clint asked.  “I wasn’t around to see that, but I’m pretty sure Fury would’a had more than six guards on the likes of you.”

“Perhaps a few more,” Loki sniffed.  “I was not nearly worried enough to  _ count  _ them.” 

Clint chuckled lightly.  It never failed to amuse him how easily Loki could switch gears.  He could go from anxious to imperious in the blink of an eye, and without the slightest sign that he had ever been concerned in the first place.

“No matter,” Loki continued.  “Had I been of a mind to escape, that long ago day, I would have done so without a single thought to the number of guards set against me.”

“Course you would of,” Clint agreed.  “You can do whatever you set your mind to.”

Loki glanced over, giving the archer a fond smile before replying, “As can you, my Hawk.  Which is something you should keep in mind during the trials ahead.”

Clint gave him a lopsided grin back, all the while silently hoping he could live up to Loki’s expectations.  Like always, they seemed much higher than Clint thought himself capable.  

Then again, he always did manage to come out of most things with his head above water, so maybe it was time for him to start actually believing it.

The halls were mostly empty this early in the morning; the palace was just waking up, it seemed.  Servants passed them on their way to their various duties, and all gave the strange procession at least a passing glance.  Clint made sure to keep his eyes forward, refusing to give them any more gossip fodder than he already had.  Beside him, he could feel how tense Loki was holding himself.  A quick glance at his face showed him a stoic, stone-faced mask that didn’t fool him even a little bit.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low so as not to carry to too many ears.  When Loki turned to look at him, Clint gave him a smile that carried a little more confidence than he actually felt.  “When this is over, I’m taking you back to that coffee shop you like so much.”

That earned him a pleased smile, and some of the tension seemed to bleed out of his frame.  “Truly?” he asked.  “Will you refrain from flirting with any young, blonde women?”

Clint smirked.  “Not gonna let that one go, are you?”

“Never.”

“Okay, how about this?  Any young, blonde women want to flirt with me, you have my permission to go all jealous boyfriend on them.”

Loki’s eyes lit up at the prospect of staking his claim on his Hawk in such a public manner.  Clint’s next words, however, put a bit of a damper on his excitement.

“No setting them on fire, though.  Gotta stay within reason.”

“Oh, well then,” Loki sniffed as though put off by such restrictions.  “What would be the point?”

“You’re just not happy unless someone gets maimed, are you?” Clint muttered.

“I would be much happier should they choose not to flirt with you at all.”

“Apparently, that’s never gonna happen.”

They were approaching the end of a long corridor, and Clint fell silent at the sight of the enormous, ornate, gilded doors that marked the entrance to Idunn’s lair.  He had no idea what awaited them beyond those doors, and if there was one thing Clint hated, it was going in blind.

“I am with you, my Hawk,” Loki murmured.

“Good,” Clint replied before huffing out a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.  He flexed his hands, testing the weight of his bow, feeling the tension in his muscles fall away as his focus narrowed down to a fine point.  “Wouldn’t wanna do this alone.”

“You are not the only one that will have to prove themselves to Idunn,” Loki continued quietly.  “Both of our worth will be measured this day.”

Clint’s brows drew together as he mulled over Loki’s words.  He hadn’t considered the fact that  _ Loki  _ would also have to pass Idunn’s tests in order to win access to the apples.  Truth be told, he hadn’t given much thought to what was actually about to happen, beyond the fact that he had a task to accomplish, and failure was  _ not  _ an option.

“So you’re gonna be on the chopping block, right alongside me, huh?” Clint asked.

“Yes,” Loki acknowledged.  “I will, at the very least, have to convince the Lady that my motives are selfless.  Beyond that, I cannot say what information or actions she will require.”

“Guess it woulda been too easy if I’d just had to go in the there and ‘ _ Golden Child’ _ my way through her trials,” Clint grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Loki questioned, a note of confusion in his tone.

“It’s an old Eddie Murphy movie,” Clint answered absently as the guards peeled away and moved to flank Idunn’s doors.  “We’ll watch it when we get back to Earth.”

The god hummed in reply, briefly taking Clint’s free hand and squeezing as the doors creaked open to admit them.

Clint swallowed harshly and laced his fingers tightly through Loki’s before stepping inside.

It was dark.  Clint was surprised by  _ how _ dark.  He wasn’t sure what to expect, he’d never done anything like this before, but he was still taken aback.  Idunn herself was nowhere to be seen, but there were myriad of shadows in which to hide.  Given what he knew of her so far, he wouldn’t put it past her to do just that.

The guards left them at the doors, making no move to join them over the threshold.  Clint had nearly forgotten they were there, until the marching footfalls drew his attention back to their host.  The doors drew inward as he watched their backs disappearing down the long corridor, and when they boomed shut, the darkness seemed to grow heavy over their heads.

“Rude,” Clint muttered, more to cover his rattled nerves than make conversation.  “Not even a goodbye.”

“These are not their trials,” Loki answered.  His eyes scanned the shadows, searching.  

“Indeed,” a low, melodic voice floated to them from deep within the gloom.  A dark shape detached itself from the shadows, and Clint was just able to make out a cowled figure drawing closer.  “None among them wish to become more than what they already are.”

Clint bristled at that, his spine straightening and fingers tightening around the grip of his bow.  Loki sensed his hackles rising and gave a squeeze to the fingers still laced within his own before slipping free to approach Idunn.  He stood before her, head bowed slightly in a rare show of deference.

“Our only wish is for the opportunity to earn that gift, my Lady,” he said, his voice smooth and unruffled, without even the barest hint of the derision Clint was used to hearing whenever Loki spoke to someone other than him.  The Lady Idunn commanded Loki’s respect; Clint was going to have to tread  _ very _ carefully.

He could feel her eyes on him even now, though he couldn’t see them.  The darkness of the room seemed to hinder his already failing eyesight, which was already suffering so soon after having woken.  He stood under her unwavering gaze long past the point where he would have snapped at her to  _ take a fucking picture, it’ll last longer _ .

“Will the mortal not speak for himself?” she finally asked, leaving Loki standing there without even acknowledging that he had spoken.  “I recall he had much to say last night.  Or was it merely too much drink had loosened his tongue?”

Clint felt his lip wanting to curl into a sneer, but he kept his face carefully blank as she approached.

“I can speak just fine,” he said, and bit off the rest of what he wanted to say before he dug himself any deeper.

The cowled head tilted just slightly to the side, as if in contemplation.  “I am pleased to hear it.  Things will go much more smoothly when words are required of you.”

He couldn’t help it; a scowl creased his forehead before he could school his expression.  It did not go unnoticed, but Idunn didn’t seem to take offense.  In fact, if Clint didn’t know better, he might have thought she silently approved.

There was a long moment of silence before the Lady beckoned them forward.  

“Come,” she said.  “We have much to do, and it is time we began.”  With that, she turned and moved deeper into the shadows, without a single sign that she intended to wait for them.

Loki threw a glance at Clint, back over one shoulder and stretched out his hand.  Clint wrapped his fingers around Loki’s and together they followed in Idunn’s wake, moving quickly lest they lose her in the dark.

The minutes stretched out as they navigated through pools of shadow interspersed by dimly glowing braziers, their steps echoing back to them from the unseen walls of the room.  Questions grew and died on Clint’s tongue, as his mind raced.  Where were they going?  Why did the room seem so large?  Were they even  _ in  _ the palace any longer?  He wanted to ask all these, and more, but he was loathe to break the quiet.

Loki seemed to anticipate his thoughts, though, and murmured, “We’re nearly there, my Hawk.”

“Good,” Clint whispered in return.  “This is getting a little creepy.”

From ahead of them, Clint heard the muted clank of metal, followed by the protestations of rusty hinges.  A thin shaft of light fell across them, growing as Idunn opened a small, arched door set in a wall of damp stone.  Clint glanced to either side, and then up, noting that the wall receded into the gloom, its’ ends remaining hidden.

“Welcome to my domain,” Idunn said, her tone neutral as they approached the doorway.  “Few have passed this way, and fewer still have left with their prize in hand.  Soon we shall see whether you can acquire that for which you came.”

The Lady paused before continuing.

“Soon we shall know your worth.”

Clint wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

The room she had shown them to was a huge greenhouse, filled with rows of troughs and hanging planters.  Most of the greenery was quite foreign to him; tiny saplings with twisting trunks, flowers that seemed to turn to watch them as they passed.  There was one wicked-looking vine that seemed to coil like a viper waiting to strike.  As they passed it, Idunn gave an idle flick of her fingers, and it fell limp to the end of its length.  It reminded him of Queen Frigga’s garden, and he said as much.

“Yes,” Loki said.  “When my mother became Queen, she enlisted the help of the Lady Idunn to create what grew to be that terrifying swath of wilderness.  Idunn has… a talent for such things.  A ‘green thumb’, your people call it.”

“It is one of the many reasons I have been given the duty of guarding the fruits of Yggdrasil,” Idunn informed them.  “I not only have the knowledge to keep the tree in balance, but also to keep those who would bring harm to it from so much as looking upon it.”

Loki said nothing, but Clint could feel the tension thrumming through him at those words.  He remembered that Loki had once sought to use his trickery to thieve the apples when he had been younger, and Clint wondered if maybe there was more to the story than just a precocious teenager seeking the forbidden.  He decided now was not the time to ask.

“Yggdrasil is not a simple tree rooted in the earth,” Idunn went on as they neared the far end of the greenhouse.  Beyond the frosted tiles, Clint could see a huge shape looming, with swirling colors and light casting strange shadows.  “It is the World Tree, the common thread that holds the realms in a delicate balance.  Its roots are what ties us all together.  Its physical home is in Asgard, but its roots extend even into the darkest depths of Helheim.”  Loki twitched, and Clint gripped his hand harder.  “The golden apples are merely a vehicle, almost a physical metaphor, if such a thing can exist.  What they hold, however, is the purest form of power in all the realms.  The energy of Life itself.”

She opened the doors, and the true enormity of Yggdrasil finally dawned on them both.

Clint’s jaw sagged as he scanned the scene before him.  To say that the World Tree was huge would be beyond an understatement, and he could feel his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.  

“There are some things that are beyond even the most advanced of us,” Idunn murmured, her gaze resting on the archer.  “Things that offend the eye, and unsettle the spirit by doing nothing more than merely  _ existing _ .   Yggdrasil is one of those.”  She paused for a beat before continuing.  “She is as magnificent as she is terrifying, is she not?”

“I-I have no words,” Loki stuttered.

“That is a first,” the Lady replied in a wry tone.

Clint found himself drifting forward, through the doors and into the long grass beyond, craning his head back to look up, up, up at the the towering tree.  It stood alone, atop a distant knoll, surrounded on all sides by a meadow that stretched far into the distance.  The sky was an indeterminable hue, cycling through colors in an impossible way, and Clint briefly clenched his eyes shut before turning back to Idunn.

“How have I never noticed this?” he asked, the confusion evident in his voice.  “I mean, I’ve been here for a  _ month _ , and I thought I’d seen every corner of Asgard.  There’s no way I could’ve missed  _ this _ .”

“Yggdrasil does not reside in Asgard,” Idunn sniffed.  “We have traveled far beyond that realm.”

“The World Tree exists everywhere and nowhere,” Loki whispered.  “She is the tie that binds us all, yet is never seen, save by a select few.”

“I see you remember your childhood lessons well enough,” Idunn hummed as she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her robe.  “This is her sanctuary, and here she is protected from any who wish to take that which only she can provide.  I am the keeper, and the guide; only through me can the gift of eternal Life be attained.”

_ Oh good, _ Clint thought.   _ Should be a real cinch. _

The longer he looked up at the tree, the more his mind wanted him to look somewhere–anywhere–else.  He forced himself to keep looking; this was the ultimate prize, the largest target he’d ever faced, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t keep his eye on it.  This was one he couldn’t afford to miss.

“I see you are determined,” Idunn said, and finally Clint allowed himself to tear his eyes away.  She gave him what he could only assume was an approving nod from within the deep hood she still wore.  “You will need every bit of it.  You are not a stranger to adversity, this much I have known from the beginning.  We shall soon see what your limits are.”

Clint swallowed and clutched his bow tighter.  Idunn’s sharp eyes did not miss it; she seemed to see just as much as Heimdall sometimes, though sorely lacking in the Watcher’s neutrality.  Everything Idunn saw was weighed and measured, as if being held to a standard so high she felt nothing would ever meet it.

She was right about one thing, though.  Clint was definitely used to fighting for the things he wanted most, and this was no different.  He felt Loki beside him as a solid anchor, holding him to the path he’d set himself on.

“Not planning on dropping the ball on this one,” was all he said.  Once again, Idunn seemed to silently approve of his choice of words, though he wasn’t sure how he could know that.

He looked back up into the branches of Yggdrasil, each one holding the vastness of an entire realm within its twisting boughs.  Loki had told him their names once, and Clint had struggled to remember them all.  

There was Alfheim, where the Light Elves ruled; the finest archers in all the realms, Loki had said, and Clint had outwardly scoffed, but inwardly wondered how he would compare if ever given the chance.  

Vanaheim, the realm of the Vanir.  Frigga’s people, Loki told him, very wise in the ways of magic.

Jotunheim, where dwelled the Frost Giants.  Loki’s shame was obvious in the way he refused to gaze upon the frozen wastes of his birthplace.

There were more, whose names Clint couldn’t recall.  Realms of ash, of fire, of light and darkness, all entwined together, connected by this impossible force; a piece of which he, a lone mortal, was meant to earn.  He had thought he’d felt small before, but those times had felt nothing like this.

“And now it has begin,” Idunn intoned.  “You feel how very tiny you are in the face of the entire universe.  Indeed, how tiny we  _ all _ are.  Yggdrasil cares not for your reasons; your ambitions; your love or your hate.  It will not grant you a shred of mercy should you fail.  And if you do not; if you should somehow succeed, know that it is not because it cares, only that you have earned that which you have sought to gain, and nothing more.”

Clint mulled those words over.  Coming from anyone else, they might have seemed harsh, but he was coming to find Idunn was not  _ like _ anyone else.  She had a very different view of those around her, saw them not as equals, but as what they all truly were; tiny, insignificant in the vastness of the universe.  There was no ego she could not pierce with but a few well-placed words.

Oh, what Clint wouldn’t give for her to meet Stark.

Loki fought to keep his placid mask in place even as Idunn finished her speech and turned to lead the way to Yggdrasil.  It would seem that the next step in this dance would take place beneath the very boughs of the World Tree, and the god held himself stiffly as a tendril of fear wrapped tightly around his heart.

Clint trailed along in Idunn’s wake, eyes fixed on the the Lady’s back as his thoughts raced.  He turned over every possibility, wondering what sort of tasks lay ahead, and whether the odds were in their favor.

It was then that he noticed Loki wasn’t keeping pace at his side.

Clint turned back to the greenhouse, and there was another moment of vertigo as he took in the empty plains rolling away in every direction.  There was  _ nothing  _ in sight; nothing taller than the golden grasses that grew to mid-thigh on the archer.  No mountains, no villages, no other trees save for Yggdrasil.   

It was disquieting, to say the least.

And there, rooted in place as firmly as any tree, stood his god.  Narrowed eyes fixed high on the crown of Yggdrasil, and slender hands balled in either a show of defiance or a bid to hide their trembling.  Clint wasn’t sure which, but neither was good sign.

“Loki?” Clint called softly.  “You coming?”

That sleek, dark head gave a slight nod, and Clint watched as Loki collected himself.  Then, back straightened, and hands unclenched, Loki glided forward, all traces of unease disappearing before he’d reached the archer’s side.  

Clint gave him a questioning look.  “You okay?” he murmured.

“It is…somewhat overwhelming,” Loki admitted.  “But I shall persevere.”

Clint understood that sentiment completely.  Overwhelming barely scratched the surface.  Being thrust face first into the metaphysical had that effect on more than just mortals, it seemed.

“So you’ve never actually been here?” Clint asked as they continued their trek across the vast, empty field.  He idly ran his fingers through the tall stalks of grass, watching as they seemed to shimmer and ripple before righting themselves as if they had never been touched.

“No, I haven’t,” Loki admitted.  “As a youngling, I attempted to steal a glimpse, but it is as Idunn said; only by her leave are any allowed to visit these fields.”

Clint hummed thoughtfully; he wondered what it was about him Idunn had found worthy of a visit.  It had to be more than just his desire to earn an apple for himself.

Or maybe that was exactly why.  This  _ was  _ kind of unheard of, or at least rare enough to note.  He hadn’t asked any real questions about the previous attempts that had been made by a mortal seeking the apples.  All anyone had told him so far was that he wasn’t the first.  No mention had ever been made of whether the attempts had been successful.  

_ Oh good, keep thinking about that shit, _ Clint thought.

“So this is a first for you, too, huh?” he said instead.  “Not too often you’re flying by the seat of your pants right along with me.  Figured you’d have done just about everything there is to do by now.”

Loki chuckled at Clint’s assumptions.  “Hardly,” he said.  “With so much that falls within Yggdrasil’s grasp, it would take me many lifetimes to achieve even a fraction of that.”

“Okay, maybe not  _ literally _ everything,” Clint amended, “but still, I mean, not even a peek?”

“Unfortunately, no.  I suppose my status as a member of the royal family–however contrived–was enough to earn me an apple of my own.  Though I do have to wonder how a–well, one such as myself–was found worthy of such a thing.”

“There is worth in everything,” Idunn said, reminding them both that she was, in fact, still there.  “Grub or god, we are all judged the same.  Your race is as inconsequential to Yggdrasil as the color of your hair or the length of your fingernails.  You are the son of a King, Loki of Asgard.  You are the son of  _ two _ kings, though you despise the truth of the one and refuse to admit to the other.”

“Respectfully, that proves nothing of my worth,” Loki argued.

“Indeed,” Idunn replied, as if Loki’s words themselves proved her point.

Well, Clint was certainly  _ not _ the son of a king.  He was the son of violent, punch-happy drunk whose crowning achievement in life had been to bow out early, before he had a chance to fuck up his kid’s lives any more than he already had.  If there was any worth to be found in Clint, it definitely wasn’t coming from  _ that _ quarter.

There was plenty of time to ponder where it might be found.  Clint looked across the field and realized that distance was impossible to determine in this featureless place.  The field was so vast and Yggdrasil so enormous, they might walk for days before actually reaching its roots.  It didn’t seem like they would ever actually arrive; Clint simply couldn’t imagine being so near to anything on such a large scale.

Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he chose instead to concentrate on Loki walking beside him.  The sound of his breathing, his footsteps in the grass, the faint creaking of soft worn leather and buckles clinking softly.  This he knew; this he would hang on to, even if they never did reach the tree.

Loki’s thoughts turned inward as they trekked in silence.  Idunn’s words regarding his parentage, and worth, echoed in his mind, giving birth to more questions that he was reasonable sure would never be answered.  Not to his satisfaction, at least.  

What about him held enough worth to ensure his access to the apples?  Had Frigga come here on his behalf, swaying the lady with a mother’s love? 

Loki thought back to the first time he had been presented with the golden fruit.  He had been young still, and curious about the plate set before him with such fanfare.  He remembered looking to Frigga, then, a question forming on his lips even as she smiled gently and urged him to eat.

“What is it, Mother,” he remembered asking.

“A gift,” she’d replied, pushing the plate closer to Loki.  “One that will ensure you a long life at my side.”

He’d squinted at the apple, even then circumspect, and questioned, “How?  Is it not just another piece of fruit?”

“Far from it,” Frigga had said with a note of amusement in her melodic voice.  “Wars have been fought over this item, Loki.  It is sought after by many, yet earned by very few.”

Loki had puzzled over this knowledge for a long moment before asking, “And what have I done to earn this?”

“Enough questions,” Frigga had stated as she lifted a knife, cut a sliver from the apple and held it out to the boy.  “You are my son, and I love you.  Do you not trust me in this?”

“Of course I do, Mother,” Loki replied quickly.

“Then eat,” she’d said.  “Eat and take this gift you have been given.”

He’d taken the sliver of fruit from her hand, then, and took a small, careful bite under her watchful eye.  The crisp flavor flooded his tongue, and he felt a moment of vertigo as he chewed and swallowed.

Frigga pressed a kiss to Loki’s forehead.  “Good boy,” she murmured softly, ruffling his hair.  “Well done.”

Loki’s eyes had taken on that far-away look they tended to get when he was lost in thought.  Clint watched him out of the corner of his eye, always keeping him in his peripheral just in case whatever he was thinking about took a darker turn.  It didn’t seem to be, but there was really no way to anticipate when or if it would happen.

He himself was starting to get mired in some not-so-pleasant memories of his own.  This place seemed to invite such thoughts, as there wasn’t much else to do  _ but _ think.  There was nothing to distract him in the featureless plain of tall, strange grass; not even a breeze to ruffle his hair.  There were no sounds save for their own; footsteps and rustling, breathing and the sound of their voices.  Now that they had all fallen quiet, Clint found the silence deafening.  The blood rushing in his ears seemed to be all he could hear and his breaths seemed far too loud.

The sky was almost painful to look at, and Clint found himself avoiding looking up at the strange, swirling mix of stars, galaxies, nebulae.  How many worlds were circling over their heads?  How many eyes were looking up into the darkness, how many were looking back at him right this moment?  The thought made him dizzy, almost ill, and so he kept his eyes down, trained on the far-off line of the horizon.  Yggdrasil rose up to encompass all that he could see, dominating everything until even the memories that had been threatening had been cowed.  There simply was no room for such petty thoughts when the entire universe was staring down at you.

“Humbling, is it not?” Idunn asked, intruding on the strange silence as if she had been waiting for that particular moment to speak.

Clint blinked back to the here-and-now, and realized he had managed to forget that he was even walking.

“Definitely feeling pretty small,” he agreed.  “Not really sure how I’m supposed to convince the universe to give up an apple, though.  I don’t think it cares one way or another how long I stick around.”

At his words, Idunn stopped in her tracks and turned to face him.  Her face was still cloaked in shadow, but in the dark recesses of her cowl, Clint could see her eyes gleaming.

“And  _ that _ , my dear mortal, is your first lesson,” she said.  “Congratulations on discovering it on your own.  The rest, I am afraid, will be far more challenging.”

“Never thought  _ anything  _ about this would be easy,” Clint remarked.  “But hey, one down, and it was pretty painless.  So I’ll call that a win.”

“You may call it whatever you please, archer,” Idunn replied as she cast a glance back at Yggdrasil.  “The universe knows nothing of such labels, nor does it require such.”

“Gotcha,” Clint huffed.  “Let’s get to it, then.”

“Are you so eager to meet your fate?” Idunn questioned.  “So impatient that you would rush headlong into these trials?”

“Eager?  No,” Clint responded.  “But after the last month of sitting idle, I don’t feel like I’m  _ rushing  _ anything.”

“There is a world of difference between preparedness and impatience, my Lady,” Loki added softly.

“As I am well aware,” Idunn stated blandly.  “But I do question how anyone can be prepared for that which has been so carefully shrouded.  You know  _ nothing  _ of what lays ahead, either of you, so how can you claim to be ready?”

“None, save the greatest of Seers, knows what path their lives will take,” Loki murmured.  “And yet all rise to the challenge set before them.  Things will change; the best laid strategies will go astray; and still they forge ahead.  Would you call them unprepared even though they go blindly into fate’s plan?”

Idunn cocked her head and studied the duo in silence for a long moment before answering.  

“I would not,” she allowed.  “And it would seem that in this, you have an advantage that a single supplicant would not.”

Clint’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he glanced at Loki before turning his gaze back to the cowled figure before them.

“And what’s that?” he asked.

“Why, each other, of course.” Idunn answered before turning back to Yggdrasil, and continuing on her way.     

Clint clamped his teeth tight together to keep the exasperated sigh from escaping.  The way things were going, they were never going to reach the damn tree.  He felt like a carthorse plodding along with a carrot dangling in front of him.  He tightened his fingers around the grip of his bow, ground his teeth together loud enough for Loki to cast a sideways glance at him, and followed behind. 

His eyes were too busy boring holes in the back of Idunn’s head for him to notice, at first, but when he saw it, all of his ire seemed to evaporate.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyes locked onto a spot in the middle distance. 

The air above the eerily-still grass seemed to shimmer and shift, and Clint might have thought it a heat-mirage if only there was any discernible temperature in this place.  Everything seemed to be neutral here, no sound, no scent, no shifting of the air. 

“So, you see it now,” Idunn said, slicing her way through the tall grass.  “I thought perhaps it would have taken longer, but it seems your words held truth when you said you were ready.”

“Okay,” Clint said, slowly, still waiting for an explanation.

“There lies the path to your first trial, mortal,” Idunn informed him.

“Path?” Loki spoke up.  “We are not already upon it?”

“Oh no, this path he must walk alone.“  Idunn turned to them both, though Clint only had eyes for the strange shimmering.  "Yggdrasil is rooted in memory, you see.  It remembers, even the things you have forgotten yourself.  The deeds–and misdeeds–of your past are all within Yggdrasil’s power, and only by those will you be judged worthy… or not.”

“And what of me,” Loki murmured, his gaze shifting to the disturbance.  “Am I meant to enter as well?”

“You shall remain here,” Idunn responded.  “As your archer begins  _ his  _ journey,  _ yours  _ will continue to unfold.”

“Continue?” Loki asked.  “I was unaware that mine had even begun.”

“Were you, now?” the hooded figure said evenly.  

“Well, yes,” Loki answered.  “I was under the impression that our judgment would come from Yggdrasil…and we have yet to even reach the tree.”

“Silly boy,” Idunn chided as Clint uttered a quiet snort of amusement.  “You know better than to think that Yggdrasil is a corporeal entity.  It exists everywhere and nowhere; it is all around us and even  _ within  _ us.  As such, your judgment began the moment you first thought of the eventuality of losing your archer…and what you would have to endure to safeguard against such a thing.”

Loki’s mouth opened, but any words he had planned on uttering died on his tongue as a deep, rhythmic thrumming disturbed the silence around them.  Clint took an unconscious step forward, firming his grip on his bow as the noise grew in volume.

“You are being summoned, mortal,” Idunn said softly.  “Can you feel the pull?”

“I can,” Clint breathed in a faraway tone.  

“Go, then,” the hooded figure urged.  “Go and face your fate.”

Without another word, the archer set off toward the shimmering patch of air at a steady trot.  Loki watched silently until the shifting portal reached out, folded itself around Clint, and winked out of existence.  

“And so your beloved’s trial has begun,” Idunn noted.  “Will he have the resolve to see it through?”

“I have no doubts,” Loki answered quickly.

“How delightful it must be to have such faith in another,” Idunn murmured.  “I had thought you past such reliance on anyone but yourself.”

“In another time, perhaps,” Loki allowed.  “Clint has shown me that trust is not always a thing that comes at a price.  You will find me much changed, my Lady.”

“That remains to be seen,” Idunn sniffed.

~~~

 

Okay, that was… really fucking weird.

Actually, if he was honest, that was really fucking  _ scary _ . He didn’t remember giving his body permission to move, let alone move towards an ambiguous shimmering haze he knew absolutely nothing about. The compulsion to do so, however, had been so strong he hadn’t even had a chance to try to fight it.

It was a little too similar to when Loki had used that damn scepter on him, if he was being  _ really  _ honest.

Biting back his nausea at that thought, Clint took a look around. He’d ended up… somewhere. _ Obviously. _ It was night, and when he looked up at the sky, there was the usual amount of stars shining back at him, though the sky was much clearer than in the city. The air was fresher, too, without a hint of smog or the ever-present sewer-smell that always seemed to waft up from the streets. It was quiet, too, the only sounds he could hear was the chirping of crickets and the trilling of frogs in the distance.

Clint let out a tight breath. He knew this place.

The lights were all off in the house before him, but Clint knew it well enough without having to see. The front stoop was slightly bowed in the middle, the third step was askew, and Clint knew without even approaching it that there was a nail sticking up through a crack on the first step. He approached it anyway, because how could he not?

The railing was an old steel pipe, once painted white but now peeling and worn away by the many hands that had gripped it. It was cold when he wrapped his fingers around it, despite the heat of the summer air, and Clint had the sudden urge to swallow. He took the steps up to the front door, knowing the door would be unlocked. The door was  _ never _ locked, because how else would a drunk manage to make his way inside after the sun had gone down? It had been locked only once that Clint remembered, and that was why the doorjamb was split along one side now.

The lights were off, but someone was home; Clint could hear hushed voices from within. High, frightened, the terrified whispers of kicked puppies.

“What did you go and do a stupid thing like that for, Clint?” asked the one.

Clint felt his blood turn to ice.

“I don’t know!” came the answering whimper, and oh  _ God Clint remembered this… _

“Did you think he wouldn’t find out?” That was definitely his brother; he never passed up a chance to tell Clint how abysmally he had fucked up. “God, Clint, you’re so  _ stupid! _ ”

Odd, how Clint remembered this, and yet  _ didn’t _ remember this. Had Barney really been that vicious to him, even back then?

“I just wanted him to stop!” came Clint warbling defense. “He’s always mean when he drinks that stuff! I just wanted him to stop!”

“It’s worse when he  _ doesn’t _ drink that stuff!” Barney reminded him. “Pouring his beer down the sink was a really dumb idea…”

There was silence for a few moments, and Clint didn’t have to open the door to know what was happening. He could remember it like it was yesterday; the stairs leading to the second floor were only a few feet inside, and Clint could remember the dull ache of the thinly-carpeted step behind him digging into his back, sitting there where he’d been tossed, the beginnings of a vibrant bruise already forming over the better part of the left side of his face. His dad had stopped what he’d called ‘baby-tapping’ him when he’d gotten old enough to lie to his teachers-and the cops if they asked-and his dad definitely had a heavy hand.

Barney, he remembered, was fuming in the sitting room, glaring out at Clint, sporting a split lip of his own. He’d tried fighting back. He was cradling a sprained wrist to show for it.

“Do you think Mom will be okay?” Clint’s tiny voice finally ventured.

“I don’t know, Clint, she’s just as stupid as you!”

“Shut up!”

Clint flinched at the venom in Barney’s voice. It had been a long time since Clint had thought about that night, and he’d blocked out a lot of the… unpleasant moments. This must have been one of those.

“It’s true! She lets him get away with this! She lets him hit us! She lets him hit  _ her! _ She never says  _ anything! _ It was  _ her  _ idea to take him to get more booze!”

“She’s not  _ stupid!”  _ Clint heard his younger self scream.

The railing was no longer cold under Clint’s hand, he felt his heart pick up its’ beat as he remembered Barney’s next words. Oh yeah,  _ this  _ part he remembered.

“I hate him. And I hate  _ her.  _ And I hope they  _ never _ come back…”

~~~

 

The plains surrounding Yggdrasil had gone still, and the air hung heavy and silent.  Loki cast his gaze about, yet nothing moved in his line of sight.  Not a blade of grass, and certainly not the woman at his side.  He fought the rising tide of questions clogging his throat, knowing that it was useless to try and pry information from the likes of Idunn.

So he waited.  

And as the long minutes passed, the sense of dread in breast intensified.

“Patience,” Idunn murmured.  “I can feel your distress, young prince.  It is a palpable thing, and colors the very air surrounding you.”

Loki bit back the urge to snarl at the hooded figure, focusing instead on steadying his voice before replying. 

“My concern runs deep, my Lady.  Can you fault me for that?”

Idunn was silent for a beat, her shadowed eyes crawling over Loki before she allowed, “I suppose it is to be expected.”

A brisk wind suddenly sprang up, rippling the tall grass surrounding them and pulling at Loki’s clothing.  A thin voice seemed to echo through the breeze; a child crying out in pain.  And while the words were masked, the emotion, the  _ loss  _ shone through.

Loki stiffened.  He  _ knew  _ that voice, even though it was distorted by time itself…he knew.  

“Clint,” he breathed, and took a step forward, looking off into the distance to where the portal had taken his archer.

“Patience,” Idunn repeated placidly.  “There is nothing you can do to soothe your mortal.  What he is experiencing now is a pain that was born long before your arrival in his life.  One he will carry with him forever.”

“What purpose does this serve?” Loki asked through clenched teeth.  “Why must he be forced to relive such torment?”

“Yggdrasil demands it,” Idunn replied.  “It would know all that your mortal endured.  It is what made him into the man he is, and as such, it all must be weighed and examined.  Piece by bloody piece…it all must be judged.” 

Loki swallowed down his outrage and turned his gaze once more into the distance, waiting.  This was merely the beginning, and he must contain himself if there was to be any hope to a favorable outcome.  

But the dread coiled in his heart grew with each passing second.

~~~

 

Clint stood frozen on the front doorstep of his childhood home, listening to two children screaming bitterly at each other. The sound was muffled in his ears, as if filtered through layers of cotton. He could barely hear it through the pumping of his heart. His vision washed out, fading to gray at the edges, and he only realized just before his knees gave out that he was about to collapse. He caught himself on the railing just before he could fall, and he blinked himself back to awareness just in time to hear something crashing to the floor inside.

The door suddenly slammed open, and Clint didn’t even have time to step aside before a tiny body (God how had he ever been that small?) came hurtling out and into the night. He braced himself for the impact, but it never came. Instead, a cold chill ran up his spine as his younger self breezed through him. Clint gasped in shock and turned to watch himself disappearing past the circle of porchlight, trailing ragged, panting sobs of rage behind him. Without thinking, Clint followed.

The sound of sirens suddenly cut through the silence, not very far away, and Clint stumbled to a halt. He felt sick. Soon enough, he knew the car attached to those sirens would be pulling into the driveway, red and blue splashing across the windows. He would come back, cold and hungry and heartsick, just in time to see the officer sit Barney down in the back seat. His eyes would be far away, glassy and vacant. He would look at Clint and Clint would see the accusation within.

Your fault, he would later tell him as they shared a cot in the back room of the police station. Clint, huddled at the end of the bed like a kicked dog, would look up at him over his knees, and he wouldn’t argue.

For now, though, he was running scared and angry into the stand of trees at the edge of their property. He went there to hide, mostly from his father, but sometimes from his brother, too. Everyone knew about it, but no one ever wanted to take the time to dig him out of the brambles and bushes, so they left him be. That was where he went to ground, now. Even if he didn’t remember, Clint could still hear the rustle of the underbrush.

He drew closer, keeping quiet even though he knew his younger self couldn’t hear anything; he knew this was a memory, that Yggdrasil had to have something to do with this. It was part of his test, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why.

Clint could hear himself, breaths hitching, choking back sobs.  His argument with his brother had quickly turned violent; Barney always did seem to take after their father more. Even with a sprained wrist, he’d managed to grab Clint’s arm hard enough to leave bruises. He would wait here, give his brother time to cool off. Or maybe he would stay the night, wait until after his parents came home. He could sneak back into their bedroom through the window; he’d done it before. Hopefully, his dad would be too drunk to remember that Clint wasn’t there when they got back.

But they weren’t coming back. His younger self didn’t know that; didn’t know that those wailing sirens in the distance meant that they were already dead.

~~~

 

The wind continued to swirl around them, tugging at Idunn’s robes and whipping Loki’s hair.  The faint, ghostly sobs were slowly being overtaken by the rising sound of sirens, and the god’s teeth ground together at the shrill edge to them.

“Are you regretting your decision?” Idunn asked.

“Never,” Loki growled.

“You say that now,” Idunn replied.  “But we’ve barely begun.  Will your conviction hold strong in the face of what is to come?”

“My conviction is not in question here,” Loki returned quickly.  “I have done all I can to start us on this path, and now that it is in motion, I’ll not turn tail.  The stakes are far too high to even entertain the thought of failure.”

“Ah, but that is no longer in your hands, now is it?” the hooded figure questioned.  “Yggdrasil will be the one to decide.”

“Be that as it may, I will still hold strong and play my part,” Loki murmured.

“Why?”

“ _ Why _ ?” he echoed. “Because it is worth the pain and heartache.  It is worth the suffering in order to save my Hawk.”

“So altruistic,” Idunn hummed.  “But is that the  _ only  _ reason?  Have you no motive beyond the healing of your mortal’s ills?”

Loki’s mouth worked for a moment before he pointedly turned his head away, holding his silence as the wind intensified.

~~~

 

Clint didn’t know why he was crawling through the bushes on his hands and knees like he was six years old again, but he was.  His younger self was dug in like a tick, curled up into a miserable ball, huddled against a splintered tree trunk.  All Clint could see was a tuft of blond hair and a flannel-covered shoulder.  He could remember thinking even now that Barney would show up any second, haul him out and finish the beating their father had started.

He’d really pissed him off.  The things he’d said, he’d only said because Barney’s words had struck such a chord of fear through him he could only think of lashing out in kind.  

It was a fight that would never really be resolved, Clint knew.  He’d spent the rest of his life wishing he’d never said half of what he had.

“Hey, kid,” Clint said when he finally broke through the last branches to find his tiny clearing.  “Know you can’t hear me, but I just thought I’d come keep you company for the worst night of your life.”

His voice was flippant, but there was no covering the tremors that shook him at being thrown into this area of his past.  He sat cross-legged, hunched in the tiny space, and stared down at himself.  It was surreal, seeing things unfolding from this perspective.  He knew the child was him, and yet, he also saw him as a separate entity.  The years had turned him into a different person.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I’m really sorry about what’s gonna happen.  Pretty much lost my whole family in one night, because I thought I could fix everything.  Lesson number one, kid; fixing things… it’s not really in your nature.  Never was, never  _ will _ be.  You’ll be great at blowing things up, though.  Guess you could say you’ll be a pro at that.”

Who the hell was he talking to?  The kid couldn’t hear him.  He’d never know he was there.  This was all in the past, for fuck’s sake, what was the point to all of this?

Clint sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.  He ignored the burning in his eyes.

~~~

 

“Have you nothing to say, then?” Idunn questioned.  “No glib remark to distract me from the truth I have uncovered?”

Loki took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he ignored the woman at his side.

“No matter,” she continued.  “Your silence betrays you.”

“In what way?” Loki ground out, his rapidly fraying patience ready to break in the face of Idunn’s interrogation.

“I am well versed in finding the truth  _ between  _ words,” the hooded woman retorted.  “That which is left unsaid is far more informative than the most detailed of explanations.”

“Tell me, then,” Loki snapped.  “You  _ obviously  _ have an opinion on the matter, so please, enlighten me.”

“You fear abandonment,” Idunn remarked blandly.  “That is nothing new.  But now?  After having had a companion cleave himself to you?  That fear has become an all encompassing thing.  You would defy the natural order of the universe in order to avoid having to be alone.” 

Loki’s eyes cut to the side, and he speared Idunn with a burning glare.  

“How very facile you make this out to be,” the dark god hissed.  “So flippant in your assumptions.”

“Am I wrong? If so, then perhaps you should clarify the situation.”

“And why, pray tell, do I owe you any form of explanation?” Loki demanded.  “Is this decision not Yggdrasil’s to make?” 

“Ultimately, yes,” Idunn answered.  “But I stand in the World Tree’s stead as your mortal is being tested.  You would do well to indulge me.”

“Have you never loved?” Loki murmured softly, his anger rapidly draining away and being replaced instead by resignation.  “Never felt the drive to preserve that which could bring you such joy?”

“Never,” Idunn replied.  “There is no place in the life of a Keeper for something as inconsequential as love.”

Loki’s brows drew together as he studied the hooded woman, and when he spoke there was a touch of sadness in his tone.  

“If you truly believe love to be such a trivial thing, then you cannot possibly comprehend my actions.  You think that the only impetus in this matter is what I will  _ gain  _ if we succeed?  Is it self-indulgence to wish to save another from an undeserved and cruel fate?”

Idunn was silent for a long moment, digesting Loki’s words.  

“Have you considered that you may ultimately destroy him in this search for salvation?” she finally asked.

At this, a small smile plucked at the corner of Loki’s mouth.

“Do you find my question amusing, young prince?” Idunn inquired stiffly.

“No, my Lady,” Loki replied.  

“Then what, if I may ask, has brought that familiar smirk back to your face?”

“I, too, once made the mistake of underestimating the ability of mortals.  The question of whether Clint may  _ survive  _ these trials is not one that even needs considered.  He  _ will  _ survive, and he will come through them stronger for it.”

“So sure you are,” Idunn scoffed.

“Of this one thing?  Yes,” Loki returned.  “He holds my faith in all that he does.  In all that he  _ is _ .  Nothing you can say will shake that.”

“That remains to be seen,” Idunn answered cryptically as she turned her hidden gaze to the horizon.

~~~

 

Three things kept cycling through Clint’s mind as he sat there on the ground fighting back tears.

One; this was obviously part of his trial and had to serve  _ some _ kind of purpose.

Two; he’d already lived through this, so there was absolutely no changing it.

And three; Loki was waiting for him to come out the other side of this in one piece.

He couldn’t do that if he gave in to the despair his memories were saturated with.  He couldn’t change this; it had already happened.  Yggdrasil was showing him this because he was supposed to have learned something from it.

“Alright, kid,” he said in a voice like gravel.  “Pop quiz.  What the hell did you learn tonight?”  

Clint looked off into the dark, in the direction of oncoming sirens.  They were drawing closer.  Soon, the lights would be splashing their red-and-blue glow over the front of the house, and his tiny world would be shattered.

“You’re a tough little shit,” Clint finally said.  “Sure, you’re crying now, but you’re gonna get through this and a whole lot more about to come your way.  People are gonna tell you you talk too much, you joke too much, you can’t do anything the way it’s  _ supposed _ to be done, and you know what?  They’re right.  Because you got through this and can still call it like it is.  Because you  _ see _ things too clear.  You get what I’m sayin’, kid?  You see more than most people ever will, and they can’t handle that.  But, you know, fuck ‘em.  It’s not your fault they’re blind.”

The sirens were close now, and the younger Clint started to stir, as if just now noticing them.  Through the trees, Clint could see the lights of the patrol car, hear the sound of gravel crunching under the tires.  Now, as then, Clint felt the dread creeping up from his gut to settle in his throat.  He watched as his younger self crawled out from his hiding place, but didn’t follow.  He knew those steps, and nothing good was waiting for him at the end of that driveway.

Instead, he stayed where he was, eyes clenched shut, and hoped he got this one right.

“I’d wish you luck, kid, but I know how this turns out,” Clint muttered to himself–and really, who  _ else _ had he been talking to this whole time?  “I don’t wanna jinx you.”

~~~

 

The muted wail of sirens slowly faded into nothing, as the winds rippling the long grass stilled.  Loki released a breath he’d been unaware he was holding, willing the tension to leave his frame and allowing his voice to steady before he next spoke.

“Is it finished, then?” he asked.

“This particular account is at its end, but we are far from the final scene,” Idunn replied.  “There is more to your mortal’s story than this singular episode of heartbreak.”

“And is it  _ all  _ to be relived,” Loki inquired.  “Every bit of his past dragged into the light to be examined?”

“Not all, no,” the hooded figure allowed.  “To do so would strain even the limits of Yggdrasil.  However, there are points that burn brighter than the rest; defining moments, if you will.”

Loki clenched his teeth, fighting back the urge to howl out his frustrations to the skies above.

“This will not be a cursory thing, my prince,” Idunn stated.  “The valuation of any soul is a complicated process.  You are a fool if you imagined any different.”

“Nothing in life worth having comes easy,” Loki murmured.  “I have heard others say that many times over, but the true  _ meaning  _ of the phrase escaped me until this very moment.”

“Odd that one so well versed in words should fail to grasp the importance of such a thing,” Idunn sniffed.

“Perhaps it is simply that I never had anything  _ worth  _ fighting for,” Loki retorted.  “But in this?  There is no storm I would not weather; no pain I would not face.”

“That is good to hear,” Idunn returned.  “For your own trials still lie ahead of you.”

~~~

 

The sirens were gone now; the sounds of crickets and frogs and the wind whispering through the leaves had been replaced with an eerie stillness. The scent of Iowa in high summer was now a startling nothingness, and no breeze to carry any sound.

Clint looked up and saw he was surrounded by the tall grass of the plains surrounding Yggdrasil.  The sky was once again swirling with nebulae, and the great tree still quite some ways in the distance.  He blinked, weary, as though he had stumbled through the years to get back here, though he knew in some way that he had never really left.

_ Temporal shift, _ his logical brain supplied.   _ Ha!  Take that, Stark! I can use fancy science-words, too! _

It was a hollow victory, and one that he would probably forget about by the time he saw Tony Stark again.  Heaving a heavy sigh, Clint clambered to his feet.  His eyes sought out the familiar silhouette of his god.

He was standing yards away, one hands toying nervously with the cuff of his sleeve.  Clint had seen him do it hundreds of times, a small thing, but now he found it oddly endearing.  Loki had been worried about him.

_ Well, duh, you kinda disappeared on him, _ Clint reminded himself.

As he made his way through the grass toward the two figures waiting for him, he wondered just how much of his past the trial was going to dig up.  Because if it was anything like this last one, he was going to have some serious doubts about passing.

~~~

 

Loki’s breath hitched as Clint reappeared several yards away, kneeling in the tall grass.  He noted the bowed head, the air of fatigue that seemed to surround his archer, and the dread in Loki’s heart grew all the heavier.

When Clint pushed slowly to his feet, the god took a deep, steadying breath; quelling his anxiety as best he could before facing his Hawk.  Silently, he damned Idunn for baiting him during Clint’s absence; for playing on the sympathies and fears that she herself had never once experienced.  

And he damned himself for even falling victim to such nonsense in the first place.

As Clint drew closer, he gave Loki a quick smile and reached out to capture the god’s restless hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, spearing the taller man with a curious look.  “You okay?”

Loki huffed out a rueful laugh, “And even now, after facing what you have, your concern is for me.”

“That?” Clint replied with a dismissive wave.  “I’ve been through that before.  I’ll be fine.”

“Do not make light of the situation, my Hawk,” Loki murmured, stepping closer to the archer as he slipped one hand around Clint’s nape.  “A trauma revisited in memory is no less damaging than when inflicted.”

“Yeah, well…one down, right?”  Clint answered gruffly, his eyes closing for a beat as Loki’s fingers slid up and into the archer’s hair.  “Still didn’t answer my question, though.  Are you okay?”

“Now that I have you here?  Standing before me?  All is well,” Loki affirmed, drawing Clint into an embrace.

The archer’s hands slid around Loki’s back and he gripped the fabric of his coat tightly, resting his forehead against the god’s shoulder.  Silence reigned for several long moments before Idunn spoke, breaking the illusion of peace.

“How  _ touching _ , the concern you show for one another,” she interrupted.  “When you are finished, then we will begin the next trial.”

Clint’s spine stiffened, and a growl worked its’ way up into his throat before he bit it off.  Loki’s arms tightened around him, in both silent warning and commiseration.  The fingers in his hair soothed his temper, though it did nothing to keep the scowl from crossing his face.

_ The fuck is she, talking to us like that? _ Clint groused in his own thoughts.  It prickled at him, how Idunn could disregard the both of them, as if they each hadn’t already slogged through their own Hell just to get to this point; Loki quite literally.

Clint realized it offended his sense of  _ justice _ , and if that wasn’t a strange feeling to have…

No, they had both been through entirely too much to have one simple show of affection be scoffed at.  Only the knowledge that they still needed Idunn’s goodwill kept him from laying into her as he had done Sif the night before.

“C’mon, Princess, don’t wanna drag this out any longer than we have to,” Clint said, his voice rough with still-simmering anger, and stepped out of the dubious protection of Loki’s arms.  

He felt marginally better when he saw that Idunn had already turned away and was paying them no attention–although he didn’t know what was worse; being mocked or being ignored.

“Indeed not,” Loki agreed.  He watched Clint with a wary eye, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced that his rebellion had been stamped down.  Clint just stared evenly back, face betraying nothing.  Loki seemed satisfied, and turned to follow Idunn farther into the field.  “I must admit, my Lady,” he called,  “these ‘trials’ are not at all as I had imagined.“

Idunn’s voice was as drawling and unimpressed as ever.  “They rarely are, my Prince.  Yggdrasil does not care for the conventions of those who dwell in its’ branches.”

Clint smirked at the back of Loki’s head as he followed behind.  “That’s a fancy way of saying it does what it wants.”

Loki swallowed down a startled laugh before murmuring quietly, “A shared behavior, it would seem.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.  “At least it’s something I’m  _ used  _ to.”

“Very,” Loki stated wryly.

They walked steadily for a time, their ears filled with the sound of the long grasses rustling around them, and little else.  The sense of unease Loki felt roiling in his belly lessened the closer they drew to Yggdrasil, to be replaced by a strange calm, draped heavily about him like a favorite robe.

“Do you feel that?” Clint whispered, his tone bordering on awe struck.

“I feel…something,” Loki allowed.  “As to what it is, exactly, I cannot say.”

“Same,” Clint said.  “It’s like…after a big storm, when everything quiets down.  Or, I dunno…coming home after a long trip?  Just…relief, I guess?”

“Yes,” Loki sighed.  “A sense of comfort, I suppose.”

“That’s a good sign, right?” Clint asked.

“We will discover that soon enough,” Loki replied.

Ahead of them, Idunn stopped short, her gaze directed to the ground at her feet.  She turned slightly and beckoned, calling out, “To me, now.  This is a thing you must see.”

Clint broke into a trot, as Loki trailed slowly behind, listening with every fiber of his being to what the Universe was attempting to tell him.  

Drawing abreast of his Hawk, Loki looked down at what had captured the hooded figure’s attention, finding nothing more remarkable than a thin root breaking through the surface.

“From this point, we are fully within the domain of Yggdrasil,” Idunn stated.  “Once you trod the ground upon which her roots grow, then, and only then, will you feel the full extent of her power.”

“Already feeling  _ something _ ,” Clint said quietly, staring down at the root-tip in rapt attention.

“I had thought that you might,” Idunn concurred.  “Mortals are far more sensitive to the influence than those that were reared closer to Yggdrasil‘s trunk.”  She paused there, tilting her head to the side in a curious manner before continuing.  “And do you see the importance in this tiny thing that I have shown you?”

“Even the greatest things come from small beginnings,” Clint answered in that same faraway tone.

“Precisely,” Idunn said, and Loki could have  _ sworn  _ he heard a smile in her voice.  

As he looked down at the gnarled twist of root, Clint could feel that same strange pull of earlier.  He didn’t know if it was going to happen again; he kind of hoped not.  The last one had been a return to the worst night of his life, but there were still some nights that were close rivals.  He might have given Loki his reassurances earlier, but he was hesitant to want to return to his past quite so soon.

Nothing seemed to be happening, at the moment, so Clint let himself breathe a little easier.  It must be just as Idunn had said, and it was simply a part of the tree peeking from underground.  He could feel Loki’s presence beside him, a grounding anchor, and he focused on the sound of his breathing.

The sudden urge to kneel down to the ground suddenly overtook him, and Clint didn’t see any reason not to, so he did.  It brought him closer to the piece of Yggdrasil, and now that he was closer, he could see the details of the bark, the tiny striations that ran along its length.  They almost seemed to be moving.  Clint blinked several times, thinking it might be his traitorous eyes playing tricks on him, but he knew they weren’t.  As he watched, they swirled and waved, as if under water, or a heat mirage.

He wondered what would happen if he tried to touch it.

_ Brilliant plan, _ he chided himself.   _ Go ahead, just reach out and put your hand on the fucking Tree of Life.  What could  _ possibly _ go wrong? _

Behind and above him, Loki chuckled.  “You are thinking about touching it, aren’t you, my Hawk?”

Clint frowned and turned his face up to narrow his eyes at the amused god.  “Shut up,” he drawled.  “I wasn’t gonna actually do it.”

Loki merely smiled at him with his eyes, the soft little crinkles at the corners that only seemed to show up for Clint, though the sardonic smirk stayed firmly in place.  “You can be wildly unpredictable in most things, but your incessant curiosity is something you will never be shed of.”

Clint barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Loki.  That would have been so  _ predictably  _ immature of him.  Besides, he was a grown-ass man.

Idunn stood by silently, watching, listening, and Clint had almost forgotten she was there.  It was eerie how silent she could be.  Clint didn’t think he had even noticed her breathing.  It wouldn’t surprise him if it came out that she didn’t even  _ need _ to breath like normal people.

The root kept drawing his attention; he felt like it was important in some way and that he was there in that particular spot for a reason.  It was eluding him, though, and he had the feeling that Idunn was waiting for him to figure it out.  He had no doubt that she would wait for as long as it would take.

Loki watched Clint as he studied the root.  

Kneeling in the dirt, his broad back turned to the god, the archer’s focus was all encompassing.  His posture was tense, but not alarmed.  Everything was narrowed down to this one small square of ground, and the root marking the outer edge of Yggdrasil’s territory.

Clint’s brow furrowed as he mulled over the mystery of the World Tree. 

“How does this  _ work _ ?” he murmured softly, tracing one finger in a wide circle around the root, feeling the soft dirt part, and smelling the rich loam.  “It’s here, but not really, right?  I mean, Yggdrasil is  _ everywhere _ …so it can’t really be  _ just  _ here.”

“Correct,” Idunn said.  “Everywhere and nowhere.  Existing in all planes, and none.”

“Illusion magic?” Loki questioned, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

“Nothing so difficult,” Idunn replied.

Clint gave a frustrated huff, and continued digging a small trench around the root with his restless fingers.  Something about the motion soothed his mind, and gathered his focus.  After a long moment he gave a slight gasp and turned his gaze up to the hooded woman before him.

“It’s like the fun-house…the Hall of Mirrors! ” he said, a smile beginning to spread across his face.  “What we’re seeing is just a reflection, rather than an illusion.”

A slight nod from Idunn, and Clint  _ swore _ , even though he couldn’t see it, that she was grinning right back at him.

Loki frowned as he turned his head to study the great tree.  “But then where is the original?  If what we are seeing is simply a reflection, from whence does that reflection  _ come _ ?”

“Again, my young Prince,” Idunn stated.  “ _ Everywhere _ .”

Clint pushed to his feet and knocked his hip against Loki’s, teasing, “It’s kinda hard to wrap your head around.  Don’t feel bad for not figuring it out.”

Loki’s frown wavered on the edge of becoming a full blown scowl.  Clint simply grinned steadily at his god until the ire faded from his eyes, to be replaced by a warmer glow.

“Now you will truly be insufferable,” Loki murmured fondly.

“Oh, just now?” Clint asked, letting the amusement in his tone shine through.

Idunn turned and began her steady pace once more, leading them ever closer to the tree that was, and was not there.

Clint watched her go for a moment, before stretching out his hand and capturing Loki’s in his own.

“C’mon Princess,” he stated.  “Time to get this show on the road.”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed, squeezing Clint’s fingers briefly.  “Perhaps as we walk I will tell you the story of Ratatoskr.”

“Who?” Clint asked, falling into step after Idunn.

“The sly messenger that lives in Yggdrasil’s branches,” Loki related.  “He carries barbs and tales between two gods that inhabit the tree.  An eagle at the crown, and a serpent at the base.”

“A bird and a snake, huh?” Clint chuckled.  “Why does that sound familiar to me?”

“I haven’t yet mentioned the  _ hawk _ , Veðrfölnir,” Loki added, with a slight smirk and a sideways glance at Clint.  “He sits between the eyes of the eagle, and none know what role he may play.”

“Ok, now that’s just too weird,” Clint huffed and picked up his pace, pulling Loki after him.  “You people have the most  _ fucked up  _ fairy tales.”

Silence fell between them once again, but it was an easy one this time, free of the tension of earlier.  Clint felt lighter, a little more confident after his revelation of the true nature of Yggdrasil.  He knew it bothered Loki that he, skilled sorcerer and child of not one, but  _ two _ realms, hadn’t been able to see what Clint had.

True, Loki had the monopoly on tricks, but that was the thing; Yggdrasil didn’t  _ play _ tricks.  It couldn’t, its very nature was the exact opposite of trickery.  It was the most honest thing in existence, just by virtue of  _ being.   _ Clint didn’t know any other way of explaining it, not in a way that would make sense coming from him.  He didn’t have the words for something like this; it was a sense, a  _ knowing _ , like when he knew he would hit his target even before he’d loosed an arrow.  

Loki would get it in his own time, Clint figured.  He was a smart guy.  Not someone who needed things constantly spelled out for him.  Clint kind of wished he could explain though, if only to get rid of that frown creasing Loki’s brow.

It took several long moments of silence before Clint noticed something different.  Something had changed.  There was still no sound, no breeze, but something in the air was different.  Clint’s eyes scanned the vast field, but there was nothing to be seen; miles of waist-high grass and the monolithic form of Yggdrasil itself, rising up to disappear into the stars.

Clint stopped, turning his head this way and that, as if searching for a sound, or to catch a movement from the corner of his eye.  His brow furrowed in concentration, straining with all of his senses to find the cause of his disquiet.

“What is it?” Loki asked, and though his voice was quiet, in this stillness, it was loud as a shout.

“Dunno,” Clint muttered, frowning.  “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Loki turned to Idunn, who stood a few feet away.  She seemed entirely unconcerned, though that hadn’t changed from the very beginning of this trial.  Was this more of the same, or was there another test coming up?  

“Whatever you are feeling, it is what Yggdrasil wishes for you to feel,” she said, pretty unhelpfully, Clint thought.  “If you are to earn the tree’s favor, you must learn to understand when it chooses to speak to you.”

Clint huffed an unamused breath, frown becoming a scowl.  “Don’t suppose you can translate for me?”

Idunn’s silence was pretty much the exact answer he was expecting.

Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying in vain to rid himself of a growing sense of apprehension.  The feeling roiled in his belly, unabated and more persistent as the seconds passed.  His eyes scanned the horizon, and the impression of waiting intensified.  

For  _ what _ , the prince could not say, but that alone made it all the more foreboding.

The back of Loki’s neck prickled, then, and he turned his face into a freshening wind that carried a familiar, yet indefinable scent.  The grass began to ripple slightly, then thrash as the wind grew in force.  And over the sudden clamor of the gust, faint noises reached Loki’s ears.

It began simply enough.

Waves, beating against an empty beach.  The grinding of great plates of ice against one another.  Guttural, alien language just distant enough to be unintelligible.

He gasped, and staggered lightly.  The ground beneath his feet seeming far more slippery than grass and earth had any right to be.

“Are you okay?” Clint asked, his voice dimmed by the burgeoning sounds.

Loki turned his gaze to the archer, seeing the other as if through the wrong end of a spyglass.  He reached out, and his hands grasped at Clint’s solid frame, trying to steady himself against the hungry wind now beating at his back.

“Do you feel it?” Loki inquired.  “The pull is so  _ strong _ .”

“Feel  _ what _ ?” Clint shot back, alarm drawing his brows together as he clutched Loki’s wrists.  “What’s happening?!”

“Yggdrasil calls,” Idunn supplied.  “And your prince is commanded to answer.”

Wait,  _ what? _

“Wait,  _ what?”  _ Clint barked, gripping Loki tighter.  He wasn’t actually going anywhere, but Clint could swear it felt as if Loki was being pulled away.  “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“There was no  _ deal _ ,” Idunn said, watching them both just as impassively as she had been from the very beginning.  “It is what the Tree commands.”

“Fuck that!  It’s supposed to be testing  _ me! _  What’s it want with Loki?”  

Clint growled through clenched teeth as a firmer, sharper tug pulled at Loki, and his grasp slipped.  There was a cold bite to the wind now whipping around them, but he ignored that, focused instead on keeping his hold on Loki.  The god stared back in panic; obviously, he was just as surprised as Clint was with this new development.

“It is not for us to question the will of Yggdrasil,” Idunn said.  She watched them struggling with a detachment that reminded Clint of the way people used to stare at the animals in the circus; vaguely interested, but unimpressed for the most part.  It was clear they would get no help from her.

He was slowly but surely losing his grip on Loki.  No matter how tight he held or how frantically Loki held him, he was going to lose him.  It was the most helpless he’d ever felt in his life, because he  _ knew _ he was going to fail, and he would have to see the look on Loki’s face when he  _ realized  _ that.

Clint was suddenly angry _.   _ That damn tree had no right to do this to Loki after everything he’d already suffered through.  He remembered his own trip down memory lane and wondered what Yggdrasil wanted to show Loki.  Would it make him live through the worst day of  _ his _ life, too?  There were plenty to choose from, after all.

The pull suddenly grew a thousand times stronger, and he very nearly lost his hold on Loki entirely.  He caught the god’s eye, and they stayed frozen like that, locked into each others’ gazes for what seemed like a brief eternity.  Something shifted in Loki’s gaze, then, and Clint was suddenly seized with a heart-stopping terror.  He knew exactly what was going to happen.  

He realized, a split second before he let go, this must have been what Thor felt when Loki fell into the Void.

~~~

 

A dark veil fell over Loki’s eyes, blocking the image of his Hawk’s anguished expression, and for a moment, Loki was thankful of that.  But with the darkness came disorientation, and he soon found himself tumbling through an unseen space.  

It was a slow, drifting fall; not unlike his desertion of Asgard so long ago.  But in his breast he held none of the hurt and disappointment that had accompanied his previous departure.  None of the wounded ego and shattered pride.  

No, for in its place nestled a sliver of terror.  An all encompassing fear that he would once again find the Mad Titan waiting for him at the end of his long fall.

As the minutes stretched on, the sounds that heralded his departure echoed around him; increasing in volume.  The din grew until his chest was near vibrating, the noises now a deafening roar, and interspersed with the sound of ice came the howls of war.  

Metal cleaving flesh, the wail of man and beast, rage and sorrow interlaced to the point that it nearly became a song.

And at the moment of realization as to  _ where  _ Yggdrasil was taking him, Loki found himself standing on a desolate beach, paved with small black pebbles.  The sea that bordered it was sluggish with ice, beating at the stones with a muted, grinding sound that was nearly eclipsed by the battle raging on the bluff above.

Panic bloomed in his heart, then, followed quickly by resignation.  This was what he was meant to bear witness to, and there would be no escaping; no turning his gaze from that which Yggdrasil required him to face.

With slumped shoulders, the prince put the sea to his back and began to climb.

~~~

 

And just like that, Loki was gone.  Clint nearly landed on his ass when the god disappeared, along with the howling, bitter cold winds and the smell of ice and snow.  He stumbled back, gaping at the empty spot where Loki had been just moments before.  

“No no nononono,” he muttered to himself, stepping forward, eyes scanning the waving grass as if hoping to find Loki hidden there.  There was nothing but the endless field and Yggdrasil in the distance, looming over all.  He whirled around with a snarl, glaring at Idunn’s stoic figure.  “Where’d he go?” he growled.  “Where the  _ fuck  _ did that tree take him?”

Idunn  _ tsked  _ at him, tilting her head to the side in disappointment.  “You were doing so well, mortal.  Have you forgotten the lessons so recently taught you?”

Clint stalked closer, close enough that anyone else might have stepped away, but Idunn held her ground.  “I’ve had it with the condescension.  Answer the god-damn question!”

Idunn didn’t move, but there was a sudden shift of  _ something _ , the hairs on Clint’s arms stood on end and the back of his neck felt entirely too exposed, and he instantly knew he’d done what Loki had expressly told him  _ not  _ to do and pissed off the one person they couldn’t afford to piss off.

“Hold. Your. Tongue,” she hissed, and though he couldn’t see her face, he felt the weight of her eyes on him, piercing into him like tiny daggers.  “You will get your answers when Yggdrasil decides you have need of them.  In the meantime, I suggest you remember yourself while in my domain.”

Clint’s jaw clenched, his fingers ached from where they were clutching the grip of his bow, and his throat was suddenly too tight for words to form.  None of this set well with him.  He had been prepared for his own worth to be tested, ready for just about anything the Tree could throw at him.

Except this.  The worst thing he could think of was for Loki to disappear and Clint not know where he was, when–or even  _ if _ –he would return.

He turned back to the spot Loki had stood, but not even his footprints remained in the soft ground.  It was as if he had never been there at all.

With what felt like a lead weight in his gut, Clint resigned himself to waiting.

~~~

 

As he reached the crest of the hill, Loki paused to look out over the battlefield.  The ice was stained red, and new snow swirled and drifted, turning the fallen bodies into nondescript hummocks; muting the colors of war.  His eyes skipped over the bands of warriors, still struggling to gain ground, and he lifted his gaze to the temple that lay beyond the killing ground. 

It looked to be carved from the very ice upon which it sat; sprawling and somehow organic.  Its’ spires reared up to pierce the sky above, and a ring of Jotun guarded the base of the building, fending off wave after wave of Asgardians.  Loki sighed, and offered a brief, silent prayer to the Norns.  He then started across the expanse of ice, toward the one place he never thought he would again lay eyes upon.

Loki made his way quickly through the battle, keeping his gaze firmly upon the ground in front of his feet.  This was but a memory; a scrap of Time hidden in the branches of Yggdrasil, and one which the Prince had no desire to look upon.  

No, what he was meant for lay behind the cold, impassive walls of the temple, and the sooner he reached his destination, the sooner it would be over.

As he drew closer to the Jotun guardians, Loki caught a glimpse of a familiar headpiece in the midst of the battle.  Odin himself led the charge, and Loki’s step faltered.  He allowed himself to study the assault, noting the Jotun’s growing panic in the face of the Asgardian’s attack.  The Jotun forces grouped tighter, attempting to repel Odin’s warriors, but it was clear to Loki, even without the knowledge of how this day had ended, that they were pitifully outmatched.

Moving quickly now, Loki hurried to slip into the temple before Odin gained entrance.  He wanted to be in place before his not-Father made the decision that would change all of their lives.

~~~

 

Clint had given up on Loki returning any time soon.  Staring at the place where he had vanished was only straining his already-strained eyesight, so he heaved a sigh and took a seat on the ground.  The grass was taller than him now, and for a brief moment, he felt completely alone.  Idunn was still there, however, and Clint was acutely aware of her presence despite trying his best to ignore her.

He soon grew bored with that.  He was bored, period.  There was precious little to do in a field of grass and nothing else, and he didn’t feel inclined to strike up a conversation with Idunn.  

It was while he was absently weaving stalks of grass into tiny wreaths that Idunn chose to break the silence.

“You are a curious creature, mortal,” she mused.

Clint scowled, though he didn’t look up at her.  “Gettin’ tired of bein’ called that all the time.  I got a name, y’know.”

“It is what you are, is it not?”  Clint didn’t care for the mild condescension in her voice.  “Seeking to change that will not make it less true.”

Clint growled under his breath.  “Okay, first of all, it wasn’t my idea to change that,” he bit out.  “And second, you keep callin’ me that like it’s a bad thing.  Kinda gettin’ on my nerves.”

Idunn said nothing to that, but Clint could sense a kind of cold amusement coming from her direction, as if she enjoyed inciting his anger.  “Curious, indeed,” she said, as if Clint hadn’t spoken.  “Tell me, what will you do with your newfound immortality once you achieve it?”

Clint’s fingers stilled, and he frowned down at his hands in thought.  “Dunno,” he admitted.  “Haven’t really thought that far.”

“Indeed,” Idunn said, as if Clint’s answer had been what she expected.  “Such is the reason few mortals have ever been given the opportunity to earn such a gift.  You have no idea what to do with it.”

Clint said nothing for a very long time.  It was true, he  _ hadn _ ’ _ t  _ thought much about it, because he wasn’t even sure he would get the chance to try.  Loki had been so sure of him, always  _ so fucking sure _ of Clint being able to achieve anything.  It never occurred to him to doubt his archer.  Clint wished he could have that much confidence in himself.

“What’s it matter what I do with it?” he finally asked.  “Not like I can fake my way through this.  If I get it, it’s mine, right?  I earned it fair and square.”

“It matters,” Idunn said, and her voice was suddenly sharp and biting as a winter wind, “because lesser men than you have used their own gifts to tear worlds apart.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Clint said, finally turning to glare at the shrouded figure.  “I don’t want to tear anything apart.”

“Then perhaps the question should not be what you will do with this gift, but rather–what do you  _ want _ ?”

Clint looked back down at his hands; what  _ did  _ he want?  Not to kill, certainly.  He didn’t want to take anything from anyone, either.  Definitely didn’t want to rule the world; that would have been more Loki’s thing.

“I just… wanna live,” he said.  “Keep doing what I do.  I can’t do that if I can’t see.  That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“But not the  _ only  _ reason.”  Idunn’s voice was sly, insinuating.

“No,” he admitted.

“You do this for him as much for yourself.  Perhaps even moreso.  Why?  Why cleave yourself to a creature like Loki?”

In Clint’s mind, his memories began to surface, like the pages of a photo album being flipped through.  From the very first time he had seen Loki, bruised and menacing and determined to fail, right up until his sudden departure.  Clint saw the hard, jagged edges as he plotted and schemed; but also, the softness and warmth as he slept beside him in the small hours.  Everything Loki was, Clint had seen, he now knew almost every facet of the dark god.  Father, brother, lover; a villain seeking redemption.

“Because I love him,” Clint said.  “All of him.  Even the parts people think I shouldn’t love.  I know what he’s done.  I know why he did it.  I love him anyway.  He’s paid for his crimes.  He’s still paying for them.  Everyone thinks I should hate him, because of what he did to me, but I already forgave him for that.”

Idunn scoffed.  “You think him worthy of your love?”

Clint gave an amused huff.  “It’s not about being worthy or not,” he said.  “And it doesn’t matter if he is, because I’d love him anyway.”

Idunn was silent for several long moments.

“Curious, indeed.”

~~~

 

The entrance to the temple led to a long, sloping tunnel with narrow walls.  Loki huffed out a quick breath, and then moved faster as the melee at his back grew in intensity, signaling the approach of Odin’s forces.  The exit far ahead showed nothing but a muted blue glow, the light diffused by the tons of ice surrounding him.

As the battle behind him receded, a tense silence filled the tunnel.  At the midpoint, the only sounds Loki could hear were his rapid footfalls, echoed almost perfectly by the beat of his heart.  It was a jarring change from the war fields he had just left, and he felt a wave of anxiety crest over him.  He felt…hunted, somehow, as if the hordes were at his back, and without sparing a glance, the dark god broke into a run.

The walls around him were widening now, and as he burst from the tunnel and into the temple proper, he pulled up short at the scene before him.  He gaped, speechless and in awe, as his gaze moved over the large chamber.

It was… _ beautiful _ .

He hadn’t expected beauty to be found anywhere on this world.  Had, in his prior dealings with the Jotun, only seen utilitarian, albeit ruined, structures.  All hard lines and sharp edges, which seemed to mirror what little he knew of Asgard’s ancient enemies.

But this?  This was  _ art _ , and Loki felt an odd tightness in his chest, something akin to a homesickness for a place he’d never know existed until this very moment.

His haste forgotten, Loki slowly moved into the temple, drinking in the sweeping arches of ice, the lines broken by niches containing various statuary.  Low pedestals ran down the center of the room, each holding an item of importance; none recognizable to him, either in purpose or value.  Craning his head back revealed a vaulted ceiling, seemingly held aloft by a series of ice spires which twisted and twined up from a balcony that ringed the entirety of the room.  

And as his gaze fell on the far side of the room, he recognized the Casket atop a long altar…and a small, squirming bundle sheltered at the base.

~~~

 

Clint was beginning to miss Loki’s presence.  It wasn’t like when they were back home and he had to leave for the day, or even the long stretches when he was sent out on a mission.  At least then, he’d known where Loki was.  Here, now, he could have been anywhere.  He wasn’t even in the same fucking realm anymore, if he’d been given the same treatment as Clint, he probably wasn’t in the same dimension, either.

His absence was almost tangible, and even Clint knew–with his mostly-unscientific mind–that that shouldn’t be possible but somehow was.  He missed his silent presence, the sounds of his breathing, the shifting of air around him as he moved.  With a sudden, painful longing, Clint wished in that very moment to feel Loki’s long fingers slide through his hair.  He felt stinging in his nose that heralded the onset of tears.  With a shaky breath, Clint fought them back, scowling into the grass until his traitorous emotions could settle themselves the fuck down.

Loki would be back, his own test finished, and they could move on.  Clint could wait; he was a trained sniper for fuck’s sake, he knew he could wait.  Just because his heart was attached to the thing he was waiting for didn’t mean he couldn’t still do it.

So Clint ignored the giant, Loki-shaped ache in his chest and focused on something else.

There really wasn’t anything to focus on, though.  He’d about had all the conversation he wanted with Idunn.  If she didn’t say another word to him for the rest of… this, he certainly wouldn’t feel bad.  Let her make her observations and mock his mortality, as long as she did it silently.

With nothing better to do, Clint flopped onto his back, mindful of the quiver he’d strapped to himself that morning.  Why he’d thought he needed it, he didn’t know, but he wouldn’t have felt right going into the unknown without his best weapons.  It’s not like there was anything out here to use them on.  There wasn’t even a convenient stump to use for target practice.  Just oceans of grass, and Yggdrasil, vast and sprawling in the distance.  Even on his back, Clint could still see it’s branches winding off into the darkness, wrapping around realms and weaving life into countless different worlds.

It struck him again just how small he really was.  Surely, Yggdrasil wouldn’t care one way or another if he came out of this trial with what he wanted.  Above him, the stars would still shine, worlds would still spin, shit would still happen.  Maybe a few people back home would wonder where he’d been this whole time, but in the end, he was pretty unremarkable when compared to the rest of the universe.

Except, he wasn’t when it came to Loki.  Which was why he was here in the first place.

Ugh, his thoughts were running in circles.  He was pretty sure he’d covered this ground already, more than once.  But that was the thing about this place; it was so vast, but at the same time, so empty, that he had little else to do but look inside himself.  What was he supposed to do when faced with the Tree of Life?  Talk to it?  Water it?  Ask if it needs a good pruning?

A frustrated huff left him without him even realizing.  Of course, Idunn latched onto it.

“Are you finally growing bored, mortal?”

“Thought we went over this before.  Stop calling me that,” Clint growled.  He continued to stare up into the swirling galaxies and nebulae, and absently wondered if he could find his own amidst them.

“But I find it highly amusing,” Idunn returned.

Clint sighed with resignation.  “Least you’re honest about it.”  His eyes followed the serpentine branches of the Tree, leading his eyes back and around and through countless stars.  His eyesight might be going, but he could still see better from a distance.

~~~

 

Loki’s step faltered and he took in a quick gulp of air, not quite a gasp.  He had known what he would find here, so he could not claim to be surprised…and yet, there was a tendril of disbelief twining tight around his heart.

“So  _ small  _ a thing,” he murmured to himself, moving ever closer to the babe he once was, “and yet you grew to be the author of so much destruction and pain.”

He moved without thought, without a conscious effort, mounting the stairs leading to the altar until he stood over the infant and gazed down at his past.  So  _ very  _ tiny for a Jotun, tightly swaddled with only his small, blue face exposed.  Loki’s eyes traced the raised lines on the babe’s forehead, recognizing the pattern he had only recently committed to memory; had only recently come to  _ accept  _ as a part of him.  The child cooed softly, his expression unconcerned even as the discord of war outside the walls grew into a deafening howl, signaling that Odin’s forces has broken through.

The King approached.

Loki heard heavy footfalls echoing from the tunnel, and he turned his head, watching as a familiar silhouette grew to fill the doorway.  Odin paused at the threshold before stepping into the temple proper, the cool light gilding the King’s golden armor in an alien blue.  There was blood on the old man’s face, his right eye gone over to a ruined socket, and his tread was weary as he approached the altar.  

Loki stepped back, his focus on the King as he came to claim his spoils of war.

Odin’s good eye was fixed on the Casket, so much so that he did not notice the infant until the child at his feet let out a querulous cry.  The King’s singular gaze dropped, and his brows drew together into an expression of concern.  Without hesitation, Odin bent and carefully gathered up the now howling babe, cradling him in one large arm as his free hand loosened the swaddling.

“Shhhhh, now, small one,” Odin soothed.  “I mean you no harm.”

Loki stiffened at his tone, his memory calling up the many times he had heard that same voice at his bedside, chasing away the imagined terrors the night held.

Odin’s ran his thumb over the child’s crown, and he gave a soft smile as the babe calmed.  Teary eyes washed from red to green, and blue skin gave way to pink as the infant quieted. 

“How did you come to be here, all alone?” Odin asked, and the babe gave a toothless smile by way of reply.  “Hidden here, among your people’s greatest treasures?  Oh, you must be precious, indeed.”

Odin’s expression grew troubled as he gazed down at the child in his arms.  “I fear I have done harm today, to those that were meant to keep you safe, little one.  But such is the way of war.”

Past-Loki sniffled in the King’s arms, and Odin drew his cloak around the child, bouncing him gently.

“Foolish old man,” Odin chided.  “Innocents know nothing of war, and should not suffer the ravages.  Short-sighted and single-minded, as always.”

The infant crowed and pulled the edge of Odin’s cloak into his mouth, happily gumming at it while the old man studied him.

“I cannot leave you here, at the mercy of an uncertain fate,” Odin murmured.  “If there are none left to come for you, then death certainly would.  I will not deny the many I sent to the afterworld today…but I will not condemn one so small to suffer.”

There was a long pause as Odin mulled over his choices. 

“It is decided, then,” the King stated.  “You will return to Asgard, as my ward.  You will have the protection of the royal family, for as long as you wish it to be so.”  

Odin reached out and scooped up the Casket in his free hand before turning back toward the tunnel, drawing his cloak tighter around the child in his care.

And Loki stood, motionless, stunned, with tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

~~~

 

Clint rubbed at his chest, just below his collarbone, and wondered why it was so hard for him to breathe.  There was an ache there, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.  His throat closed on a breath, and he was surprised to find himself fighting back a sob.

Sitting up, Clint pressed harder against the ache in his chest, scowling at the sharp sting of tears gathering in his eyes.

“What the fuck?” he grumbled, fisting them away before they could do more than threaten.

“Something troubling you?” Idunn asked.  Her tone was light, mocking, and entirely too smug for Clint’s liking.

“Why am I crying?” he growled.  “I’m bored, not sad. I don’t generally cry for no reason.”

She hummed thoughtfully.  “I doubt they are your tears.”

“What the-” Clint began, then cut himself off when another wave of pain slammed into his chest, even harder than before.  He growled it away, clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt, hoping it would pass.  

“There is a tether between you and Loki,” Idunn explained, apparently bored with baiting him with non-answers.  “You feel what he feels, to an extent, while he is adrift in Yggdrasil’s branches.  It keeps him from becoming lost.  Without it, he would not be able to find his way back.”

The knowledge was enough to distract Clint from the foreign ache.  He blinked in realization.  “Wait, so… while I was gone, he could feel what I felt?”

“Indeed,” Idunn said.  “Perhaps even more than you would allow yourself.”

It was difficult, with Loki’s emotions running through him at the same time, but Clint was pretty sure the anger and sense of betrayal was all him.  He rose from the ground and turned his glare upon Idunn directly.

“When were you gonna tell us this?” he bit out.

“Loki seemed to know already.  I assumed you would have known, as well.”

“Obviously, I didn’t,” Clint growled through clenched teeth.

“Well, now you do.  Such wonderful timing, too.  Your real trial is about to begin.”

“My wha-?” Clint blurted, and then his eyes widened as another portal shimmered a few yards away, opening up to let something else through.  “Aw, portal, no…”

It was huge, bigger than anything Clint had ever seen, and he grew up in a circus.  It was dark, with a pebbled hide that made him think of the plastic dinosaurs he had when he was a kid, but there was nothing reptilian about it.  It moved on all fours, low to the ground like a stalking cat.  There were no impressive horns or spikes or anything he was sure he’d heard Thor describe in his hunting stories.  No, instead, it was all sleek lines, corded muscles, and a predatory gaze amplified by the thing’s  _ seven eyes _ .  They all blinked, one after another, and Clint’s tactical brain realized it was a genius way to keep its eyes on its prey at all times.  No blind spot, either.

_ Really glad I thought to bring my best weapon, _ Clint thought as he sized up the monster.

Idunn stood to one side, completely unaffected by the sudden appearance of a dump-truck-sized predator.

“Try not to die,  _ mortal _ ,” she said, and Clint could  _ hear _ the smirk in her voice.  “Remember, without you, Loki is trapped.”

_ Great,  _ Clint thought,  _ no pressure, then. _

He took another moment to collect himself, and then he was all business.

“Here kitty, kitty,” he taunted as he pulled an arrow from his quiver.

The thing lept. 

~~~

 

Loki stared after the All-Father’s retreating figure, and as he took a step to follow, he found himself in a gilded hall.  

The change was so sudden, so jarring that he felt a wave of vertigo.  The room seemed to sway as the sound of voices grew from behind him.  Loki caught his breath as Frigga entered his line of sight, cradling his past-self in her arms.  She smiled down at the child, paying no mind to Odin, who trailed in her wake, accompanied by a slight, golden-haired man.

The smaller man had a furtive look about him, and Loki disliked him at first glance.  Odin had a impatient cast to his features, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he crossed the room.

“All I am suggesting, Your Majesty, is that you consider the ramifications to bringing the infant here,” the man said.  “The markings upon his forehead, when in his  _ true  _ form, indicate that he is of royal blood.  That is something that may well benefit us.”

“Explain,” Odin growled.  “But do not speak to me of ransom, Rangvald, for there is little left in that realm of any value.”

“Nothing so material, Sire.  Simply…the babe may offer us the leverage to affect a truce.  And perhaps someday, he may bridge the gap between our worlds.”

Odin mulled over the adviser’s words before giving a slight nod.  “Perhaps,” he allowed.  “I suppose we shall see what comes to pass.”

Anger flared bright in Loki’s chest, and he took a step toward the king only to find himself in a well-appointed nursery.  His rage burned away, to be replaced by nostalgia as he recognized his surroundings; from the tapestry above the two small beds to the toys scattered at his feet.

He turned in a slow circle, taking in the room that had seemed so expansive to him as a child, and found…himself sitting cross-legged upon the floor, carefully turning the pages of a book.

And oh, how Loki  _ remembered  _ this moment.

Odin stepped into the nursery, and past-Loki looked up from the floor, his whole face brightening at the sight of his ‘father’.  The boy struggled to his feet, refusing to relinquish the hold he had on his book, asking in an eager voice, “Will you read this to me?  It has words I have yet to learn.”

“Of course,” Odin replied, taking the volume from the boy and lowering himself into a chair.  Past-Loki crawled into the king’s lap; easily, comfortably.

Odin flipped through a few pages before asking in a tight voice, “Where did you come by this, Loki?”

“Rangvald gave it to me,” the boy answered.  “He said it was time I began to learn the lessons of history.”

“Did he now?” Odin replied quietly, before closing the book and setting it aside.  “I think, perhaps, that book is a bit advanced for you.  Shall I tell you story of my own, instead?”

“But Father,” past-Loki cried.  “I want to hear about the Frost Giants!  I want to hear about the monsters!”

Loki clenched his eyes shut at the sight of the thinly veiled pain in Odin’s face.  When he opened them, he was again in the gilded hall.

Odin sat upon his throne, stiff with barely contained rage.  Rangvald stood before him, the very picture of insolence.

“I thought this matter was settled long ago, Sire,” he began.  “The child cannot serve his purpose if he does not know what he is…”

“What he is, is my  _ son _ ,” Odin snapped.  “Nothing more, and nothing less.”

“Were that true, then the Queen would not have had to place a glamour upon the boy, now would she?”

“He is my son,” Odin repeated.  “In every way but blood.  I will not have you poisoning his mind as to his true heritage.”

“Poisoning his…?  Sire, the Jotun are our sworn enemies!  Every Asgardian knows this.  Even the babes in arms harbor a hatred for the blue beasts!  You, yourself, fought against them!”

“I know what I have done,” Odin stated.  “I need no reminding.”

“Perhaps you do!  And have you thought of how will the people of Asgard would take to the idea of a Jotun being housed in the palace and raised alongside the Crown Prince?” Rangvald asked, a note of defiance in his voice.  “Not well, I would think.  There would be many difficult questions posed.”

The king tensed, his eye narrowing as he speared the smaller man with a burning look.

“And how would they know such a thing, I wonder,” Odin murmured in a careful, measured tone.  “Would you tell tales, Rangvald?  Sow the seeds of discontent should I disregard your weighted ‘advice’?”

“The people have a right to know.”

“The people be damned!” Odin roared as he pushed to his feet.  “I will not…WILL NOT…be blackmailed.  I will not break that innocent boy’s heart!  I have already done him a great disservice by slaughtering his kin, and taking him from his birthright, and I will do him no further harm.  He is to  _ never  _ know that he was born to any other house but mine, do you understand?”

Rangvald shook his head, “This is a mistake, Your Majesty.  The boy  _ must  _ be told!”

Odin leveled Gungnir at the smaller man, a grim smile on his face.  “But not by you,” he intoned.  “I bind your tongue and banish you, Rangvald.  Never again darken my door.  Never again will you speak of this subject…or any other.  May the Norns have mercy upon you, for I have none.”

Loki shielded his eyes from the bright glow of Odin’s spear, and when he lowered his hand, Odin stood alone in the throne room, a troubled expression creasing his brow.  

The dark god stepped forward, and found himself in the mists, falling.

~~~

 

Clint wasn’t sure if he was glad for the tall grass or not.  On one hand, it was easier for him to take cover if he stayed low.  On the other hand, staying low was his least favorite thing to do in battle.  He preferred to stay up high, where he could see every movement, calculate where the enemy might move, and intercept them.  He was a sniper, not a grappler.

No one thought to inform his opponent, though.  This thing was faster, stronger, and more motivated than he was; it was all Clint could do to keep out of striking range of those claws.  He’d already taken a brief flight through the air when he failed to account for the tail.  It was whip-thin and seemed to have a mind of its own.  He hadn’t even managed to loose a single arrow at the thing.

_ I need to get up high _ , Clint thought as he rolled under the right foreleg, narrowly missing a stomp that would have turned his head into mush.  _  Where’s a regular god-damn tree when I need one? _

Evasion was keeping him alive, but it wasn’t winning this fight.  Clint needed to get on the offensive, and pretty damn soon.  He was starting to get winded, and this thing no doubt had more endurance in its pinky toe than he had in his entire frail, mortal body.

Arrows weren’t going to cut it in this battle, Clint realized fairly quickly.  There wasn’t enough range for them to be very effective.  He’d used them as melee weapons in the past, but against much smaller enemies.  Person-sized, and usually with the same general vulnerable spots.  This thing didn’t look like it  _ had _ any vulnerable spots.  None than he could exploit, anyway.  Maybe the eyes, but he wasn’t willing to take that chance at the moment.

_ Plan B, then _ , Clint decided.  

On the thing’s next lunge, Clint rolled to the side, and at the same time, hit a special trigger on the grip of his bow.  The string retracted into a  groove, and the body straightened until it was a solid, perfectly balanced staff.  The locks clicked into place, and Clint got to his feet, eyes already on the beast as it snarled and whipped its tail through the high grass where he’d been just a half-second before.

With a running start, Clint leapt at the thing’s rough, pebble-skinned back.  He landed near the back hips and kept running.  There was a split second of affronted shock before the air was split with a shriek of rage and Clint felt the body try to twist away from him.  It was going to throw him, a lot like the one and only time he’d tried riding the show-horse at the circus.  This time, however, he was prepared for it, and he moved with the thing’s own momentum, flipping into a controlled tumble before striking out at the thing’s snout with his staff.  There was a satisfying crack and the feeling of a solid impact that went all the way to his shoulder.  

Clint didn’t expect the hit to do all that much damage.  Distract it, maybe.  Buy him some time to get some distance between them so he could try for another arrow.

What happened, though, was possibly the biggest hissy fit Clint had ever seen in his life.

With a howl of agony, the thing curled one massive paw around its muzzle and hunched in on itself so hard it bent nearly in half.  All seven of its eyes clenched shut, and were those honest-to-god  _ tears  _ leaking from its eyelids?  Clint rose from his crouch, confused but wary, and watched as the thing fell over on its side, writhing on the ground as if in its death-throes.  Chunks of turf and tangles of grass flew in the air, pelting Clint as he continued to stare, dumbstruck.

After several moments, the thing seemed to calm down, until it was only whimpering, hiding its face behind both front paws.  

Well, shit, now Clint just felt sorry for it.

~~~

 

Loki was falling, again.  He drifted through the mists, consumed by what he had learned, and damning himself for how very  _ wrong  _ he’d been.

So much wasted time.  So much rage directed at Odin, when all along, it was he that sought to shield the child Loki had once been.  Yes, the king had stolen him away; yes, he had initially thought of what use the Jotun prince might offer.

But time had changed the old man.  His heart had softened, and love had bloomed within.

Loki fought back a sob.  The bitterness in his chest was heavy as he replayed all the hurt he had brought to the house of Odin.  The smallest slights to the eventual treason; it burned the very core of him, tearing his long-held beliefs to shreds.  

And now that he knew the one thing he held as absolute truth was a lie?  How was he to go about repairing that?  Would the king forgive him for his stubborn anger?  Furthermore, could he forgive  _ himself _ ?

That last thought was echoing in Loki’s head as the mists separated and dropped him back onto the plains of Yggdrasil.  He staggered slightly before squaring his shoulders and turning his gaze toward Clint…who was standing in front of a large, whimpering creature.

Loki quickly moved forward, taking in the scene before him.  Idunn off to one side, as impassive as ever.  Clint staring at the creature in mild confusion.  And the beast itself?  Huge, sleek, and mewling like a lost kitten.

“It would seem that I have missed much in my absence,” Loki remarked dryly.

~~~

 

Clint startled at the sound of Loki’s voice.  He turned his gaze away from the pathetically whimpering creature to see Loki standing there as if he’d never left.  The last vestiges of the portal he must have come through rippled and faded, leaving nothing behind.

“Oh good, you’re back,” he said, relieved despite his flippant tone. “Maybe you can tell me what the fuck is going on with this thing.”

Loki stepped forward, brow furrowing as he drew nearer.

“Oh my,“ he said, almost sadly. “Clint, what have you done?”  He approached the creature slowly, but confidently, as if he wasn’t afraid it would lash out and unzip him.

“Uh.” Clint blinked, watching as Loki knelt down beside it and laid one hand carefully on the crown of its head. The creature visibly flinched at the touch, but otherwise didn’t react. “I… thought it was going to kill me…?” He phrased it as a question, because he had given up trying to understand what was going on a long time ago.

“Kill you?” Loki scoffed, stroking the ridges of raised flesh between the thing’s top row of eyes that looked remarkably like horns. “This creature would no more have killed you than Fenrir would.”

“Well it sure acted like it was going to kill me,” Clint said defensively. “With the claws and teeth and jumping at me.”

“It was merely playing,” Loki chastised. His petting seemed to have worked to calm it down, and it uncurled its massive paw from around its muzzle. 

“Do you want to tell me how I was supposed to know that?” Clint snapped, clearly annoyed. “Where I come from, when something that big with that many teeth jumps at you, its trying to kill you.”

Loki hummed in agreement and continued to run his hand over the finely-pebbled skin of the thing’s head. It let out a low, grating sound that reminded Clint of Loki’s Jotun purring. “True, you couldn’t have known. Wherever did you manage to find this creature? It is quite far from home.”

Clint glared and pointed at Idunn. “It came through one of those weird portals and she told me not to die. What was I supposed to think?”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed. “Pulling pranks, my Lady?” He lifted an unamused glare in her direction. “I do believe that is my area of expertise.”

“I learned from you,” she said simply and, to Clint’s annoyance, seemed to shrug beneath her hooded cloak.

Loki slid his hand under the creature’s chin, stroking lightly.  The beast tilted its head back and uttered a happy, chirping noise that was utterly at odds with its appearance.

“Send him back,” Loki said quietly.  “He has no business here; no bearing on this quest, and I’m certain his mother is missing him.”

“His… _ mother _ ?” Clint questioned.  “Don’t tell me that this…this…lizard-cat-whateverthefuck is a  _ baby _ !”

“Not quite,” Loki murmured.  “Definitely a juvenile, though.”

“Jesus,” Clint said, looking over the beast, taller than Loki by a fair bit, even while crouched.  “I’d hate to see him when he’s fully grown.”

“Be thankful Idunn did not find a female of the species,” Loki said.  “They tend to be far larger.”

“Course they do,” Clint huffed.  “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Send him  _ back _ ,” Loki repeated firmly, turning his gaze to Idunn.  

The hooded figure sighed and inscribed the air before her with several quick hand motions, a portal unfolding nearby.

“Off with you, then,” Loki cooed, while giving the creature one last affectionate stroke.

A breeze wafted from the portal, carrying the scent of rain, and the faint sound of a low, questioning chuff.  The beast rose to its feet with an answering cry and loped away, disappearing into the vortex.

Another motion of Idunn’s hands, and the portal snapped shut as quickly as it appeared.

“There,” she said.  “Now we should be on our way.  Time grows short.”

She set off through the tall grass, not sparing a glance behind her to see if the others were following.

Loki brushed his hands down the front of his coat as if dusting himself off and turned to see Clint still standing in place, a frown creasing his brow as he watched him.  Loki sighed and held Clint’s gaze for a few moments before speaking.

“I know what you will ask, so before you do, yes, I am perfectly fine,” he said in such clipped tones that it was obvious to Clint that he was lying at least a little bit. 

Clint only frowned harder and stepped through the tall grass, passing Loki to follow after Idunn. He said nothing.

Honestly, he was getting a little pissed. The slow progress combined with Idunn’s constant silent – and not-so-silent – judgement and the strange ‘trials’ were testing his temper like it had never been tested before.  And now Loki was lying to him, as if his concern was a chore he had to deal with.

If there wasn’t so much at stake, he would have turned around and gone back the way they’d come, found his way back to bed and crawled under the covers until it was time to go back home.  He was sick of being treated like a child, like he was so much less than everyone else because of his mortal nature.  It was exhausting to always be on the defensive, to always have to keep his guard up so no one could use it against him - or worse, Loki - in some way or another.

He could hear Loki following after a bit of a pause. Well, he probably didn’t expect to get a cold shoulder reception, but god damn it, it’s not like he gave Clint much of a choice.  He wanted Clint to think he was fine, to not ‘coddle’ him, to ignore the fact that he’d just relived the entire lie of his childhood. But no, he was  _ fine _ , so Clint would leave him alone about it.

Except he  _ wasn’t _ fine and Clint knew it, and he knew Loki knew he knew it.  So now Clint had guilt on top of his anger, and if his experience with those two particular emotions was anything to go by, it would soon turn into self-loathing.

Just what he _didn’t_ need when his soul was being judged.

Why did these things keep happening to him?  

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt Loki move up beside him.  He looked sidelong at his profile, and there was the little frown Loki wore when he wasn’t sure what he should say.  It was obvious he wanted to say  _ something _ , though.  

Clint sighed, opened his mouth to say something, but Loki spoke up and whatever Clint was about to say died on his lips.

“I am sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper.  “I know better than to try to fool you with my words.  I don’t know why I thought I could.”

“I get it,” Clint said.  “We both got to watch our lives wrecked for the second time.  Not like I can judge you for not wanting to talk about it.”

Loki was quiet as he considered Clint’s words, that frown never leaving his face.

“Another time, perhaps, we can discuss these things more,” he said finally.  “There are some truths of my past that have been brought to light, and I do wish to share them.  Here and now are neither the time nor the place.”

Clint’s frown slowly melted from his face as a thought occurred to him.  “More slumber party stories?”

The look Loki gave him brought out a true smile.  “Is that what you called them all this time?” he asked, and Clint didn’t know if he was horrified or amused.  Probably both.

Clint shrugged one shoulder.  “Didn’t know what else to call them,” he admitted.

“Yes, then,” Loki murmured. “Once this trial is behind us, and we find ourselves in a warm and welcome place, then I will relate the truth of the matter.”

He paused before turning a slight grin Clint’s way. “Slumber party stories,” he repeated with a quiet chuckle. “Oh, the things you say.”

The archer huffed out an unamused breath. “Never gonna let me forget that one, are you?”

“Certainly not,” Loki agreed. “It is quite endearing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint groused. “That’s me in a nutshell. Endearing, amusing…all the -ing words.”

“Loving,” Loki added. “Caring. Yet also maddening.” His grin grew as he added, “Dare I say tantalizing?”

“When don’t you dare to say whatever’s on your mind?”

“Never,” the god sniffed. “Particularly when what I have to say is so firmly rooted in truth.”

“Speaking of ‘rooted’,” Clint said. “We’ve been walking for hours now, but that damned tree is no closer. What’s the deal with that?”

“No closer you shall come until she deigns it,” Idunn replied from ahead of them. “When she deems you ready, then, and only then, will she allow your approach.”

“Seriously? Why exactly?” Clint asked.

“She hasn’t taken your full measure yet,” Idunn answered, as vague as always. “If she had, we would find ourselves at her base instead of trodding the fields.”

Idunn threw a look back at the pair trailing her, and Loki could fairly feel the grin on her unseen face.

“Have patience, mortal,” she said. “There are those that have walked these plains for years in search of her blessing.”

Clint nearly stumbled.

“Years,” he blurted.  “ _ Years?”   _ He turned to Loki.  “Years, she said.”

Loki, too, looked more than a little alarmed.  “In the interests of transparency,” he said at the back of Idunn’s head, “how long have others walked these fields?”

“Decades,” Idunn said, with an air of indifference that gave Clint chills.  “Some wander for centuries and never find themselves any closer.”

Clint turned panicked eyes to Loki as if begging him to fix this mess.  “I don’t have centuries!  I don’t even have decades!”  His voice cracked with panic, and Loki winced in sympathy, because  _ no they did not _ .  That was the whole point of coming here, after all.   

“Of course you do,” Idunn said, and this time she sounded amused.  “You must have at least thirty years left, surely time enough.”

Loki could feel Clint’s rising panic, but he was just as shocked as the archer to hear that this journey might not be over as quickly as he had first imagined.  He placed a hand on the back of Clint’s neck, hoping to soothe him, but he only felt how very tense he was, nearly shaking, and already much warmer than usual.  The shock had hit fast and hard.

“Worry not, my Hawk,” Loki said, his voice low and soft.  “You are being judged according to your soul.  I do not think it will take nearly so long for the Tree to deem you worthy.”

Clint’s mouth tilted in an unhappy grimace.  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Loki gave the back of his neck a squeeze, and they marched on.

Time passed as they wended their way through the tall grass.  The light never changed, nor did they find themselves tired or thirsty.  Loki’s distress grew as they continued on, step by slow step, Yggdrasil still far in the distance.

Clint had pushed through his panic, and now seemed resigned, if not a small bit sullen.  No words had broken the silence, and Loki’s hand had long since fallen from the archer’s nape.  

A prickling unease teased his pale skin into gooseflesh, and he fought the urge to demand answers from their guide, even though he knew such an act would be, at best, unsatisfactory.  He studiously ignored the growing thought that perhaps this was to be his ultimate punishment.  To wander the plains forever, and bear witness to the final days of his archer as he fruitlessly searched for that which he would never be allowed to attain. 

But no.  While Idunn herself had made it quite clear that she was  _ not  _ an impartial party…Yggdrasil herself held no grudges.  It would do them no good to consider such dark thoughts.

Loki parted his lips; to say exactly what he was unsure.  But the words died on his tongue as the faint breeze carried to them the muted sound of music.

“D’you hear that?” Clint asked in a low tone.

“I do,” Loki replied.  “It seems somehow familiar, but I cannot quite place it.”

“I can,” Clint murmured, the tension in his voice returning.  “Fucking wish I  _ didn’t _ …but I can.”

The music swelled and Loki tilted his head, listening intently.  

“What  _ is  _ it, my Hawk?”

Clint turned his stricken gaze to the god.  “Calliope,” he stated.  “Goddamn circus music.”

~~~

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, it was like he was back there all over again.  It wasn’t until he took a look at his surroundings and saw the empty fields and galactic sky had been replaced by a close forest on the edge of a clearing that he realized he actually  _ was _ .  And that Loki was still there with him.

The air was no longer still and empty, a slight breeze brought the strangely nostalgic scent of barnyard, diesel exhaust, and fried  _ everything _ .

Loki’s voice broke the pained reverie.  “Is this where you-”

“Yes,” Clint interrupted, glaring at the lights through the trees.  Loki didn’t seem to mind being interrupted.  

They could just make out the vague silhouettes of people walking up and down the midway, the garbled sound of a hundred voices all melding together.

Here, though, in the dark just beyond the last of the tents, a very different show was about to begin.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” a voice barked from somewhere nearby.

“I’m leavin’, Barn, don’t try to stop me.“

Clint tensed up at hearing the sound of his own voice, and he stopped breathing when he realized what they were about to witness.

“Fuck,” he said, quietly, but not quietly enough.

“Clint?” The concern in Loki’s voice couldn’t hide his confusion.

“This is the night I left the circus,” he explained even as the sound of footsteps and rustling leaves grew closer.  He refused to look at him, focusing instead on the spot he knew his younger self would emerge, followed closely by his brother.  “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Damn right I’m gonna stop you,” came Barney’s vicious growl.  “The hell is wrong with you?“

It was then Clint’s younger self stepped into the clearing, and Clint felt like he’d been dealt a physical blow.  God, he was so fucking  _ young _ back then, and just as stupid as he looked.

His hair was lighter, shaggier, and he hadn’t quite grown into his face yet.  He was only barely old enough to pass as anything other than a kid, though back then, he’d thought 17 was old enough to know everything.  He carried a backpack over one shoulder and his bow case in one hand, and a stubborn set to his jaw that he was sure Loki would be able to recognize.

“I heard some shit, okay?” the younger Clint relented, turning to face his brother, who was only a few steps behind him.

Barney was bigger in just about every way than Clint, though his hair was more of a reddish brown than blonde.  He looked vaguely like Clint, but  _ mean _ , as if he glared at everything he looked at.  It wouldn’t surprise Loki at all to find out that Barney was nearly the spitting image of their father.

“You heard what, exactly?” Barney asked, slowly, cautiously, then seemed to dismiss it.  “I ain’t lettin’ you ruin this for us.  We got a good place here, why you gotta go and fuck it up every time?”

Clint’s face scrunched up into a sneer, glaring balefully at his brother.  “Ruin, nothin’, this place is gettin’ too hot.  And I ain’t stickin’ around for what Buck’s plannin’.”

“How do you know about that?” Barney hissed, taking a menacing step closer.

Clint’s jaw sagged for a beat before baring his teeth.  “You’re  _ in on it _ !  Of fucking course you are!  Jesus Christ, Barney, asking what the hell is wrong with  _ me _ , what the fuck is wrong with  _ you?” _

It was like Clint could feel the betrayal in his chest all over again, only this time he got to watch it play over his face, too.  He blamed the betrayal for the fact that he didn’t see Barney’s fist coming until it was too late.  There was no time to duck, but there was plenty of time to see the look of utter rage on his brother’s face just before the lights went out.

And here was where things got a little blurry in Clint’s memories, because he didn’t remember anything that happened directly after that first punch.  The next thing he remembered, he was waking up on the ground to find that both Buck and Jacques had joined Barney, and there was some kind of debate going on about what to do with him.

“I overheard them talking about clearing out the safe that night,” Clint told Loki as he stared down at his unconscious younger self.  “They were gonna cut and run, fuckin’ cowards.  Said there wasn’t anything keeping them there anymore.  Needed a change of scenery or something, I dunno.”

“This is why you decided to leave?” Loki asked quietly.

Clint shrugged.  “I guess I got abandonment issues?  Thought if I left first, they wouldn’t have a chance to leave me.”  He looked up at the image of Barney, still fuming over his unconscious form.  “Didn’t think my brother would be in on it, though.”

Loki’s eyes were fixed on young Clint, laying crumpled in the grass at his brother’s feet.  He knew there was nothing he could do to protect him; knew that Clint would ultimately survive this trial.  And yet, the urge to  _ act  _ was nigh unbearable. 

He took a step forward, unconsciously, and present-Clint wrapped a strong hand around his wrist, anchoring the god.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.  “Not a damn thing you can do about it, anyway.”

“Oh, but if I could,” Loki murmured.  “Such wrath I would pour out upon him.”

“I’m sure,” Clint agreed.  “But…it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.  Hold it together, okay?”

Two figures emerged from the treeline, quickly approaching the spot where Barney stood over the slowly stirring form at his feet.  “We got a problem here, guys,” he declared.

“Keep your fucking voice down, or else  _ you’re  _ gonna be a problem,” one of the men hissed.  “We don’t need anyone else in on this, got it?”

“Sorry, Jacques,” Barney mumbled.

“So, who’d you put down, and why?” Buck asked as he aimed a sharp kick against past-Clint’s hip, drawing a low groan from the boy and causing him to roll to his back.  “Holy shit,” Buck continued.  “Clint?”

Loki’s mouth twisted into a snarl, and he leaned forward, testing the archer’s grip on his wrist.  

“Easy, Princess,” Clint soothed.  “This is long over with, and I’m  _ fine _ .”

“You are  _ not _ ,” Loki shot back, nearly vibrating with rage.  “You were wronged in the worst way; betrayed by family, your trust shattered along with your body.  And these beasts are the reason.”

“Yeah, and they got theirs…eventually.  Karma really  _ is  _ a bitch, y’know.”

Loki bared his teeth, a growl rumbling low in his throat as the three figments from the past callously discussed the merits of throwing Clint a beating versus simply killing him. 

And once the course of action was decided, Loki turned away, taking his archer into his arms, and pressing his face against the other man’s neck.  Every fleshy thud and pained cry brought a wince to the god’s face, but through it all, Clint murmured reassurances into his ear, stroking his back softly as history played itself out once more.

Clint wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Loki or himself, but it didn’t seem to be working for either of them.  Loki gripped him with steel fingers; he could feel them twitching against him as if he kept forgetting how easily he could harm his fragile mortal body.  Clint had no such regard, he knew he couldn’t hurt Loki no matter how tightly he held him.  

And he wished he dared to hold him as tightly as he could, but that would mean letting Loki know how close to falling apart he actually was.  He had to keep it together, for Loki’s sake, because as much as revisiting this part of his past hurt him, he’d already lived through this.  He’d already done the mending and the healing, even some forgiving, though that had taken him longer, much longer.  

It had been easier for him to forgive Loki than it had been for him to forgive his brother and former mentors.  Even with the sounds of his bones breaking in the background, Clint realized how very easy forgiveness seemed to come to him after this ordeal.  Being betrayed by one’s own family tended to put things into perspective, and you begin to realize that the things you held close, like pride, really didn’t seem to mean all that much anymore.

It still hurt, when he let himself think about it, but it was an old hurt rather than a fresh sting.  The dull ache of a mended bone instead of the broken glass of a fresh break.  So much time had passed, and Clint had changed so much since then.  He’d expected this part to hurt so much more than it did, now he was here.

And it was strange, how little he felt he deserved for it to happen.  For as long as he could remember, he’d felt, in the back of his mind, than maybe he had.  Why else would his own brother let something like this happen?  From the moment he’d woken up and been able to think clearly, his mind had tried finding reasons, making excuses, trying to build a bridge over the chasm this betrayal had opened up inside him.  That bridge had been made of guilt, he realized.  He’d let Barney’s words have far more weight than they deserved, and he’d made himself believe that he was the one to blame.  He’d brought it on himself, and it was easy to follow that path down the long line of bad mistakes he’d made.  

The circus was Barney’s idea, but that was only because Clint sabotaged every home they’d ever found themselves in.  They only ever ended up in the orphanage because Clint had caused their parents’ deaths.  Barney had only ever looked out for him, tried to smooth the path for them both and ended up taking the brunt of every consequence; consequences that Clint had always felt responsible for.  And Barney had never let him forget that fact, driving home again and again that it was Clint’s fault they were in whatever situation they found themselves, it was Clint’s fault they didn’t have parents or a home to go back to, so everything that came after must also be Clint’s fault.

Except, no, that wasn’t right, because he’d been a child.  Children couldn’t be held responsible for everything they did, especially when there was no one around to teach them.  The only thing their father had ever taught Clint was how to take a hit.  He learned from his mother how to hide exactly how hurt he really was.  And he learned from Barney how to blame everyone and everything but himself when the consequences got too dire.  

He didn’t learn that last one very well, it seemed.

It was quiet in the clearing now.  Past-Clint’s rasping, rattling breathing was the only thing he could hear.  Three broken ribs and a cracked sternum.  Busted jaw, thankfully no missing teeth, though he had three loose ones he almost lost.  Broken leg, broken wrist, bruised liver.  He’d pissed blood for a week.  Considering the alternative, he’d gotten off pretty easy.  He would live, obviously, and he would be a lot more cautious about who he could trust.

He knew all of this without having to look at himself, but he did anyway.  Clint pulled away from Loki and stared down at his wrecked teenager’s body.  Loki refused to look, keeping his eyes clenched firmly shut even though he was facing away from the scene.  He shook, fists clenched, mouth a tight line, and Clint didn’t think he’d really ever seen Loki angry before.  He’d seen him mad, maybe annoyed edging into irritated, but never truly angry.

It was kinda terrifying, actually.

Loki pulled in a deep breath, attempting to bank the fires of rage that burned in his belly. It seemed a losing battle, and then…then, on the exhale they found themselves elsewhere.

“What the…” Clint growled. “Where the hell are we  _ now _ ?”

“I am not certain,” Loki answered. “But I have no doubt that our reason for being here will make itself known.”

He cast his eyes about then, searching for a clue. But all he could see was a dark passage with a darker shadow lurking against one wall. An approaching light glimmered at the edge of his vision and Loki groaned internally. Of course  _ this  _ moment would make itself known.

The light grew, revealing a younger Loki. His short hair was slicked back and there was a familiar, determined set to his jaw. The shadow peeled away from the wall and stepped forward to meet him and Clint breathed a quiet “Whoa.” from behind him.

Laufey towered above the prince, looking down a finely chiseled nose at the Asgardian and curling his lip in contempt.

“Why am I here, small one,” he asked in a voice like glaciers grinding together. “Tell me what was so very important that you insist I meet you  _ here _ , in this forsaken, between place.”

“I have a proposition for you,” past-Loki replied. “One which I think you will find most pleasing.”

The Jotun king spat at Loki’s feet and turned to go before the prince blurted out, “The Casket. I have a way into Odin’s vault so that you can reclaim your sacred treasure. But it must be on a specific day…at a specific time.”

The king paused, his back still to past-Loki. He was quiet for a long moment before casting a glance back over one shoulder.

“Go on.”

Another time jump and they were at Thor’s coronation, at the moment Odin realized that an invasion was under way.

“You  _ didn’t _ ,” Clint groaned.

“I did,” Loki admitted. “My reasons seemed sound at the time.”

Again - on Jotunheim, the moment Loki discovered his true nature.

Once more - in Heimdall’s chamber as Thor was banished.

Yet again, the scene changed. Now they found themselves in the vault, Loki screaming at Odin before the old man sank to the stairs.

Frigga placing the spear in Loki’s hands.

The Warriors Three plotting against him.

Lying to Thor about Odin’s death. Sending the Destroyer to finish his not-brother off. Battling Thor on the Bifrost, and Odin’s regret-tinged “No,” before Loki fell away into darkness.

And finally, cowering at the feet of Thanos as the Titan shone a cruel grin down at him. 

“I have just the use in mind for you, lost one. You will serve me well.”

A large, purple hand reached down, and the muted light faded to black as Loki’s screams echoed across the stars.

Most of these things, Clint already knew; Loki had told him himself, after all, and Clint wasn’t surprised by a lot of it.

The screams, he could have done without.  Clint swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and looked up at Loki.  His face was stoic, as if carved from ice, but Clint could read what wasn’t there, and Loki was terrified all over again.  Clint didn’t see what had made him scream like that, he wasn’t shown, and in no way did Clint mistake that for kindness on Yggdrasil’s part.  He didn’t see it because it wasn’t for him to see.  He’d learned that much, at least, from his time here, in this timeless place; he only saw what he needed to see.

He had to keep reminding himself that the Tree wasn’t sadistic; the Tree didn’t  _ care  _ enough to be sadistic.  

So when the darkness lifted, and Clint found himself looking out onto a familiar scene, he had to remember that there was a  _ point  _ to all of this, and could only watch from the outside as the portal opened, and Loki appeared, kneeling on the floor, head bowed, scepter in hand, oozing insanity and malice from every angle of his body.  Clint watched as Loki looked up, locked eyes with him, and  _ grinned _ .  He remembered that grin; how it seemed to pour ice water directly down his spine and freeze him in place.

And then that moment, after, the sharpness of the scepter over his heart, the cold that crept through his body, then his mind, his  _ thoughts _ .  Clint shivered now, remembering it, the alienness of it, how wrong it felt.  Trying to fight every step he took that he didn’t decide to take himself.

That was ages ago, though.  He’d already lived through this.  

Was that the point?  Showing them what they’d been through so they could move forward?  To show them how far they’d already come?

There was the plotting they’d done together, the plans Clint had helped make for his own mortal downfall.  

Loki’s capture was almost entertaining to watch, though he knew that Loki had never planned for Thor to show up.

Fury’s posturing made Clint want to roll his eyes.

Tasha’s talk with Loki had been all at once amusing and downright terrifying, hearing those words coming from the mouth that had touched every inch of his body since then.

Oh.  And here was the part he still had nightmares about.

The explosions, the death, the destruction, the  _ betrayal _ .  He’d almost killed everyone on that Helicarrier.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t  _ tried _ .  

Fighting Tasha was hard to watch.  He was glad now as he was then when she’d managed to knock him out.  He couldn’t stand seeing that particular shade of blue in his own eyes.

And then, there was this.

Clint had seen blood.  He’d seen a  _ lot  _ of blood.  Coulson’s blood was different.  Everything else seemed to wash out into shades of gray, leaving only the bright red of his blood and the glowing blue of the scepter.  Thor’s bellow was drowned out by the blood rushing in Clint’s ears.  He watched his body crumple and slide to the floor, feeling numb.  Beside him, Loki was as rigid as a statue, not even daring to breathe.  His hands had turned to fists at his sides.  

The Tree held nothing back.  Clint got to watch as Phil slipped away, even as Loki managed to escape, leaving Clint behind.  The ache of loss melded with the sting of betrayal in Clint’s chest.  Used up and thrown away, thanks for the memories.  On the bright side, Clint figured it just showed he was still capable of feeling those things and nothing about him had really changed for the worse.

Then there was a moment, so brief that Clint almost – almost! – missed it, when Loki might actually have felt regret.  A single tear had spilled from his eye.

The dark god let the the memories of his beginning with Clint wash over him. So many mistakes made; so many people hurt…and yet here they were, all this time later, fighting to stay together. He felt a warm glow in his belly at the thought that this mortal;  _ his  _ mortal, would forsake his very nature in order to remain at his god’s side.

He carried that feeling back through the void, back to the endless meadow where they once again found themselves before Idunn.

“And what did Yggdrasil show you this time, my Prince,” the hooded figure asked, a sly, knowing tone to her voice. “I cannot imagine it was pleasant.”

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but paused as a low rumbling began to sound in the east.  He turned his head toward the noise, his brows drawing together in confusion, and no small amount of concern.

“What the hell is  _ that _ ?” Clint questioned, stepping closer to Loki’s side.

“I am not certain,” Loki answered slowly before turning his gaze back to Idunn. “Is this another trick of yours?”

“I have no hand in this,” she replied, anger dripping from every word.

The rumbling grew in intensity, drowning out the very sound of Loki’s rapidly beating heart. The sound undulated, vibrating the ground and travelling up their legs to reverberate through their chests. Clint’s fingers twined around Loki’s and squeezed as the sound grew louder still.

And then, with a final tempestuous roar, the World Tree rushed toward them, growing from a distant figure to fill their field of vision within seconds as the sound died around them.

“Well, that was  _ weird _ ,” the archer muttered and blinked owlishly, craning his head back to look up through the branches that shaded them. The leaves rustled overhead, dancing in a wind that couldn’t be felt. They shifted, bunched, parted to give brief glimpses of  _ what  _ Clint wasn’t quite sure. He swore he saw the dark, star-studded field of space between the leaves, galaxies spinning slowly by.

A grin spread across Loki’s face and he turned to Idunn. “It seems our journey is at an end, my lady.”

The hooded figure did not answer, and Loki swore he could feel waves of disapproval radiating from her.

A quiet whisper tickled in the god’s ear. A soothing, somehow familiar voice. He couldn’t make out any words, but the message was clear in his mind and he squeezed Clint’s hand all the harder.

“D’you hear that,” Clint asked. “Is that…is the tree  _ talking  _ to us?”

“I believe so,” Loki replied. 

Clint’s breath hitched in his throat. “It sounds like…oh fuck. That’s my mom’s voice…”

“To me, it is Frigga,” Loki murmured. “I do not know how that could be, but I suppose that Yggdrasil acts as mother to us all. She is the backbone of the Universe. She holds all the realms gently in her arms, like any good mother would.”

Clint swiped the back of his free hand across his eyes, and swallowed hard. “That’s not fucking fair,” he ground out. 

“Which is not unusual for this day,” Loki agreed.

“So now what?”

“Be still and listen,” Loki said. “For this is the moment we have worked so hard to reach.”

The muted whisper went on, and while no words were discernible, Loki felt a peace spread through him. He felt Clint’s hand trembling in his hold and the archer moved closer still.

A shaft of light pierced through the dense canopy above, falling just in front of them, and Clint gave a little gasp. 

He took a step forward.

Loki tugged him back, but Clint said, “No. It’s okay. I feel like I’m supposed to do this.”

The god squeezed his hand harder, pulling him back again. “We do not know what that  _ is _ ,” he argued. “This has been a journey fraught with danger, and I will not allow you to just walk blindly into the unknown!” 

“You have to trust Yggdrasil…you have to trust  _ me _ .” Clint turned his gaze back to meet the other man’s. “You have to let me go, Loki,” he said gently. 

With a small, resigned sigh, Loki untangled his fingers from Clint’s and watched as the archer stepped into the light.

For a long moment nothing happened. Clint stood silently in the pool of light, his head tilted back and the golden rays throwing his face into high relief. Loki’s nerves were fraying to the point of breaking when the shaft of light suddenly flared brighter. It pulsated, cycling from buttery yellow to a blinding white, causing the god to lift one hand to shield his sight.

“And now we reach the end,” Idunn intoned, her words doing very little to calm Loki’s worries.

He shot Idunn a sour look and shifted his weight, forcing himself not to panic.

The minutes crawled past and the light continued to shift, shrouding Clint entirely. Loki was on the verge of stepping into the light to retrieve his archer when it suddenly winked out, and Clint dropped to his knees in the long grass, his head bowed.

The god rushed forward, quickly kneeling at Clint’s side. The archer’s shoulders were shaking, and for a split second he thought Clint was sobbing…until he heard the laughter bubbling up from the other man’s chest.

“What is it?” Loki asked. “What happened?!”

Clint raised his head and grinned at Loki before lifting his hand from his lap, showing the god what had been hidden from view.

One perfectly formed, slightly glowing, golden apple.

Loki gaped at the apple for a moment, scarcely able to believe his eyes. He threw his arms around Clint in a tight embrace, nuzzling the side of the archer’s head.

“You did it,” he murmured. “You won your prize!”

“ _ We  _ did it,” Clint replied, pressing a kiss to Loki’s temple. “And now we have all the time in the world.”

~FIN~  
  
  



End file.
